| CER | 6.17 |
| WER | 15.42 |
| WER (order independent) | 14.29 |
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| When this book was written, the writer was under the supposition then generally current that the Armenian Massacres of April, 1909, in Cilicia were instigated by Abdul Hamid and his Yildiz Clique. Babikian Effendi, the Armenian deputy who went to Adana from Constantinople to investigate into the massacres, plainly reported that all investigations had failed to trace them to Abdul Hamid and his Yildiz Clique. Babikian Effendi, as was to be expected, died suddenly on his return to Constantinople, but later on it became known that the massacres of April, 1909, had been planned, prepared, organized and carried into execution by the Constitutional Government of what has been called “Liberal Turks” or “Young Turks.” | When this bool was written, the writer was under the supposition then generally current that the Armenian Nassacres of April, 9og, in Cilicia were instigated by Abd-ul Hamid and his Yildiz Clique. Babikian Effendi, the Armenian deputy who went to Adana from1 Constantinople to in- vestigate into the massacres, plainly reported that all investigations had failed to trace them to Abd-ul Hamid and is Yildiz Clique. Babikian Efendi, as was to be expected, died suddenly on his return to Constantinople, but later on it became known thatthe massacres ol Ppril, 1909, had been planned, prepared, organized and carried into execution by the Constitutional Government of what has been ealled ''Liberal Turks'' or 'Young Turks,'' e . . , a ' 'F M8 la ne' 1'- e 'l . 4 4 , i0 (' il e ' |
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| WHY AND WHEREFORE. In making a study of my race, I have found three marked characteristics Intelligence—Energy—Industry. Combined with these three characteristics is an intense Love of Nationality. We live in a complex world. In an independent people these characteristics and this sentiment are laudable Virtues. In a subject people they are Crimes. After I had laid this bitter Truth to heart, I did not have to seek for the Why and Wherefore of the Armenian Massacres. The Armenian Massacres stand without their parallel in history. The human mind staggers to contemplate the fiendish orgies of which they have been the victims, and no pen can describe their horrors: and this helpless christian people are to-day in the same deadly peril as they have been since the famous Treaty of Berlin consigned them bound hand and foot to the mercy of their executioners. The Armenians may be led again “as sheep to the slaughter” and the work of extermination may be completed—Jesus Christ was crucified on Calvary and the servant is not greater than his Lord—but the work of their extermination can only be completed when the evil influences in the Turkish Empire have reached their culminating point. Hitherto the Powers of Europe have by their jealousies and rivalries cultivated these evil influences, they have watered them and made them grow, but when their culminating point is reached, they must re-act on Christendom and the natural consequence must follow. Those who sow the wind, must reap the whirlwind. It is in the natural order of things. I will allow that Liberty, Justice, Equality, Fraternity are the watchwords of Young Turkey, but Young Turkey is only a small minority; the great majority of the Turkish nation are not Young Turks. The question therefore resolves itself into this critical point: “What will Christendom do even now?” | WHY AND WHEEORE. In making a study of my race, Ihave found three marked characteristics Intelligence-Energy-Industry, Combined with these three characteristics is an intense Love of Nationality, We live in a complex world. In an independent people these characteristics and this sentimyent are laudable Virtues, In a subject people they are Crimmes, After I had laid this bitter Truth to heart, I did not have to seek for the Why and Wherefore of the Armenian NIassacres. The Armenian MIassacres stand without their parallel in history, The human mmind staggers to contemplnte the fiendish orgies of which they have been the victims, and no pen can dcscribe their horrors: and this helpless christian people are to-day in the same deadly peril as they have been since the famous Treaty of Berlin consigned themm bound hand and foot to the mmercy of their executioners, The Armenians mmay be led again '' as sheep to the slaughter '' and the work of extermination may be completed-]esus Christ was crucified on Calvary and the servant is not greater than his Lord-but the work of their estermination can only be completed when the evil influences in the Turkish Empire have reached their culminating point. Hitherto the Powers of lL.urope have by their jealousies and rivalries cultivated these evil influences, they have watered them and made them grow, but when their culmyinating point is reached, they must re-act on Christendom and the natural consequence must follow. Those who sow the wind, must reap the whirl- wind. It is in the natural order of things. 1 will allow that Liberty, Justice, Equality, Fraternity are the watchwords of Young Turkey, but Young Turkey is only a small minority; the great majority of the Turkish nation are not Young Turks, 1he question therefore resolves itself into this critical point: ''What will Christendo do even noww?'' |
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| SCENE OF THE MASSACRES IN ASIA MINOR. The trouble began in Adana. An armed mob strengthened and augmented by soldiers fell in overwhelming numbers upon the unarmed Christians. The Armenian population of Antioch and vicinity were practically wiped out and the Armenian villages in the Alexandretta district destroyed with immense loss of life. Hadjim, Kessab and the neighbouring villages were burned. The Armenian quarter in Tarsus was ruined and ill-omened Marash stained again with the blood of thousands of Armenians. Zeitoon was desolated. The entire population of Kirikon between Aleppo and Alexandretta were massacred to the last babe. The mob and the soldiers burned what they could not carry away, so that the material loss has been enormous. In place of the former abundance and thriving industries there are instead desolated provinces and the charred and blackened remains of pillaged and ruined homes, and the residue of those who escaped massacre are reduced to homelessness and starvation. | . -+e -Az + T -4. A aa?'Y- -5 li. *= cS R --A-' s. =ü %2 nm ts a's b- .-- ,r =C1-w''' r '+ .-r3GGbr. MA ' s- 3 AtY/ R 4 - r -, '. 4>wO G = - AS83 -- V A 4 A' 2f y-+s. w' g AIs -' Mea NTI0 = A,- - , itRzsui -=. 7A. ed7a .. *4, y-e'-. Nl.a- =+we' =\<A -.sroa>$54,YM - ? za. , N ( ' W . 4-----*s../, ==- YC' :-+-L 8a r Y,ANr+d AMDRETA AALEMer0 t1 M6,. - 5 ' 'e-- =. '1E/.' 'b %e- j\< ,,g8'---, g6 'ML6ur---.F , ---4--% L., L\<' -4'A .=aESA7LMMARA5H ES: wARA .sSW-4\&s19 ,. 2 .f-a6.. -ar9 %N+. wI [-. y o gAs ( /r---: W' , 5. - '- NEYS .e ;/r$ y8E- zOe'-, T^-m4g=s'' s- :-. 4 Ae u 5 TD y 2rN . N- n--4rKM,y'5 t-e g?3 e [ aosu sCENE OF THE MASSACRES IN ASIA MINOR. 'The trouble began in Adana. An armed mob strengthened and auguuented by soldiers foll in overwhelming numbers upon the unardmed Christinns, The Mrmenian population of Antioch and vicinity were practically wiped out and the Armenian villnges in the Nlexnndretta distrlct destroyed with itmmense loss of life, Hadjim, Kessab and the neigh- bouring villages were burned. Tho Armenian quarter in Tnrsus was ruined nnd ill-omened MInrnsh stained again with the llood of thousands of Armenians, Zeitoon was desolated. The entire population of Kirikon between Aleppo and Alexnndrett were massacred to the last hnbo. The mob nnd the soldiers burncd whhat they could not carry away, so that the materinl loss las hcen cnormous, Inn place of the formmer abundance nnd thriving industries there are instead desolated provinces and the charred and blackencd remnins of pillnged and ruined homes, nnd the residuc of those who escnped massacre are reduced to hommelcssness and starvation, |
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| DISINTERESTED EVIDENCE. I have thought it advisable to insert a few extracts from accounts of the Massacres of April, 1909, given by disinterested witnesses. “We are having a perfectly hideous time here. Thousands have been murdered—25,000 in this province they say; but the number is probably greater, for every Christian village was wiped out. In Adana about 5000 have perished. After Turks and Armenians had made peace, the Turks came in the night with hose and kerosene, and set fire to what remained of the Armenian quarter. Next day the French and Armenian schools were fired. Nearly everyone in the Armenian school perished, anybody trying to escape being shot down by the soldiers.” “The Turkish Authorities do nothing except arrest unoffending Armenians, from whom by torture they extort the most fanciful confessions. Even the wounded are not safe from their injustice. A man was being carried in to me yesterday when he was seized and taken off to gaol. I dare not think what his fate may be.” “For fiends incarnate commend me to the Turks. Nobody is safe from them. They murder babies in front of their mothers; they half murder men, and violate the wives while the husbands are lying there dying in pools of blood.” “The authorities did nothing, and the soldiers were worse than the crowd, for they were better armed. One house in our quarter was burned with 115 people inside. We counted the bodies. The soldiers set fire to the door, and as the windows had iron bars, nobody could get out. Everybody in the house was roasted alive. They were all women and children and old people.”—Extract from letter of Mrs. Doughty-Wylie, wife of British Consul at Adana; published in the London “Daily Mail.” [6] “The soldiers led the way in these horrors and were guilty of atrocities so terrible that they can never be described in a public print. Even the soldiers landed at Mersina—the soldiers sent expressly to restore order—added to the crimes and for three days continued the murders unchecked.”—Extract from the London “Daily Mail.” IN THIS HOUSE 115 WOMEN AND CHILDREN WERE ROASTED ALIVE. History repeats itself. In 1895 Turkish soldiers fell upon seventy to eighty young women and girls in a church, where they had fled for refuge, and after hideously outraging them, barricaded them in, setting fire to the building at the same time, and derisively shouting to their victims as they were being roasted alive, to call upon their Christ to save them now. | ty[7Ntr-- - - T TT8Y- Y-s 1YT s - e 12s('T1;T 1 4 \1 1 JL/ AAA L i 1 u-4 NA -w/ A A-a A- y L 1L/ ALAu MLk-. I have thought t advisable to insert a few extracts from accounts of the NIassacres of April, 1009, given by disinterested witnesses. + We nro having a pcrfcctly hhideous time hcre, Thousands have bbecn murdered-25,000 in this provincc they say; but thhe numlcr is probally greater, for cvcry Uhristian village was wiped out In Adana about 5000 1ave perished. After Turks and AArmcnins lad made pence, the Turks came in the night with hose and keroseue, and set fire to what remmmaincd ofthc Armenian quarter, Nest day the French and Armenin schools worc fircd. Ncnrly every- one in thie Armeniiu school pcrished, anybody trying to escape bcing shot down by thesoldiers,'' The Turkish Authorities do nothing cscept arrest unoflending AArmenins, from wlon by torture they cstort thc mmost fnciful confessions, Even thhe woundcd are not safe from their injsticc. A man was bcing carried in to me yesterday when he was scized and taken off' to gaol. I dare not think what his fte muay be. ''For fiend incarnnte commend me to the Turks, Nobody is safe from thcm. They murder babies in front of their motlers ; thcy half murdcr mcn, and violnte the wives while the husbands arc lying therc dying in pools of lood.'' ''The authorities dil nothing, and thnc soldiers were worse than thhe crowd, for they were bettcr armel, Onc house in our quarter was burned with l15 pcople inside, We connted ' the bodies, The soldiers set firc to thie door, and as thie windows hiad iron bars, nobody could get ont, Everybody itu the housc was ronsted alivc, They werc nll woumen and chillren and oll people.''--Estract from letter of MIrs, Doughty-Wylie, wife of British Consul at Adana; published in the IAandon '' Daily Mil,'' M, y'4 .- w y'. = '. +$: . ä + s,: s' s A ( -------=4==esss+T''FT'-, . w, 4 = z 'a*'--' ' .s g -- rE t B e .. i 4Y - 3 'ap 4r=w 'G . a/' I t { t. w- l 4' ) IN THIS HOUSE 115 WOMEN ANu sLDREN WERE ROASTED ALIVE. IIistory repeats itsslf. In 1895 Turkish solliers foll upon seventy to eiglty young women and girls in a church, whcrc thcy had fled for rcfugc, and ufter hilcously outragiog thedm, barricaded them iuu, setting fire to thie buildiug at the samc time, and derisively shouting to their victims as they were being ronsted alive, to call upon thoir Chrit to save thcm now |
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| of blackened ruins, the stark walls of the churches and houses rising up out of the ashes and charred timbers heaped on every side. What must it mean to the five thousand men and women and little children who have survived a painful flight to the seacoast and have now returned to their mountain home, only to find their houses sacked and burned! There were nine Christian villages which clustered about Kessab in the valleys below. Several of these have been completely destroyed by fire. All have been plundered and the helpless people driven out or slain.” “Can you imagine the feelings of the Kessab people as they climbed on foot the long trail up the mountain, and then as they came over the ridge into full view of their charred and ruined dwellings? Their stores of wheat, barley and rice had been burned; clothing, cooking utensils, furniture and tools had gone; their goats, cows and mules had been stolen; their silk industries stamped out; their beloved churches reduced to smouldering heaps. The bodies of their friends and relatives who had been killed had not been buried. And yet the love of home is so strong that the people have settled down there with the determination to clear up the debris and rebuild their houses.”—Extracts from “The Sack of Kessab,” Stephen Van R. Trowbridge. As these sheets are going through the press there comes news of famine at Zeitoon. The Rev. F. W. Macullum, American Missionary at Marash, writes to the Rev. W. W. Peet, American Missionary at Constantinople, that 12,000 souls in and around Zeitoon are dying of hunger; they are wandering about in rags, mixing bran and water, and cooking and eating it, if they can get even that. Rev. Macullum adds, “The same story comes to us from all sides. As we foresaw all along, from now on the distress will be greatest.” If 50,000 were massacred, the list of those who have died and are dying of homelessness and starvation will exceed 150,000. It is true; and the numbers are not exaggerated. Last year the people reaped no harvest, and this year there are no sowings. The latest news is that Mush, a prosperous Armenian village that had escaped the desolation of the massacres, has been plundered in a night attack by armed Kurds, and the villagers are now reduced to extreme distress. Before the outbreak the Armenian patriarchal vicar at Mush had repeatedly appealed to the Armenian Patriarch at Constantinople, and the Armenian Patriarch had repeatedly appealed to the Authorities at Constantinople asking protection for the villagers of Mush as a Kurdish attack was apprehended. It is evident that the authorities at Constantinople are unable to protect thriving Armenian villages from Kurdish and Turkish raiders. | of blclened ruins, the stnrk walls of the churches and houscs rising np out of thhe ashes and cliarred timbers heaped on cvery side, W;:d must it mean to the five thousand men and women and little chillren whio have survived n painful fliglit to the senconst nnd hnve now returned to their umountnin home, only to find their houses sackcl and burnel ! TIiere were nine Christiau villages which clustered alout Kessab in thie valleys below. Several ot thesu hnve been coupletely destroyed by fire. All hnve been plundcrel nd the helpless peoplu driven out or slnin,'' ''Cn you imagine the feelings of the Kessab people as they clibed on foot the long tail up the mountain, and then as thiey came over the ridge ito full yiew of their charrel and ruined wellings? Their stores of wheat, bbarley and rice had been burned ; clothing, cookiug utensils, fruiture and tools had goue; their goats, cows and mulcs lad been stolen ; thcir sill industrics stnmped out ; thcir beloved churches reduced to smouldering henps, Thie bodies of thheir friends and relatives who lad been killed had not been buried. And yet the lovc of home is so strong that the people hiave scttled dlown there with the determination to clear up the debris and rebuilü their louscs,''-Estracts froms ''The Sack of Kessabb,'' Stephen Vnn 1.. Trowbrilge. As these shheets are going through the press there comyes news of famine - t7 N at Zeitoon. The Rev, t. y. oIacullum, American NIissionary at NIarasl, writes to the Rev, WW. W. Peet, American MIissionary at Constantinople, that 2,OoO souls in and around Zeitoon are dying of hunger; they are wandering about in rags, mising bran and water, and cooking and eating it, if they can get even that, Rev. NIacullumy adds, ': he same story comes to us from all sides, As we foresaw' all along, from now on the disttess will be greatest,'' If (o,ooo were massacred, the list of those who have died and are dying of homelessness and starvation will exceed 1 5O,oOo. It is true; and the numbers are not exaggerated. Last year the people reaped no harvest, and this year there are no sowings. 1 he latest news is that NIush, a prosperous Armenian village thhat hhad escaped the desolation of the massacres, has been plundered in a night attack by armyed Kurds, and the villagers are now reduced to extreme distress, Before the outbreak the Armenian patriarchal vicar at MIush had repeatedly appealed to the Armenian Patriarch at Constantinople, and the Armenian Patriarch had repeatedly appealed to the Authorities at Constantinople asking protec- tion for the villagers of Mush as a Kurdish attack was apprehended, It is evident that the authorities at Constantinople are unable to protect thriving Armyenian villages from Kurdih and Turkish raiders, |
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| PREFACE TO 2ND PRINTING. The first and second parts of this little book were written and printed in pamphlet form for circulation in the United States, shortly after the Adana Massacres of April, 1909. I have now thought it advisable to add a Supplement of a short history of the Origin of the Armenians and the Introduction and Revival of Christianity in Armenia. The illustrations and the extracts from the periodicals “Harper’s Monthly,” “The Wide World” and the “Cosmopolitan” have been added to the 2nd printing. | PEIEAC TO =SDD PRINTIG. The first and second parts of this little book were written and printed in pam)phlet form for circulation in the United States, shortly after the Adana NIassacres of April, 1gog. I have now thought it advisable to add a Supplement of a short history of the Origin of the Armenians and he Introduction and Revival of Christianity in Armenia, he illustrations and the estracts from the periodicals '' Harper's Monthly,'' 'T1e Wide WoHd '' and the '' Cosmopolitan '' have been added to the 2nd printing. |
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| INTRODUCTION TO 2nd PRINTING. My object in writing this little book is to lay the hard case of my unfortunate race before the men and women of the United States; since it is from the United States that the American Missionaries have gone forth, who have been the only helping influence from without for my suffering people in Asiatic Turkey. To the earnest and devoted men and women of the American Missions, we Armenians owe a debt of gratitude which we can never repay. If in the contents of the pages of this little book I have exaggerated Facts by one whit or one iota, if I have deviated by one hair’s breadth from the Truth, I stand to be judged. “God save us from another Adana, but the sword of Islam has not been dulled� was one of the clarion notes sounded at the Sixth International Convention of the Student Volunteer Movement, which was held at Rochester, New York. The man who sounded that clarion note knew Islam, and because knowing of my own knowledge that the sword of Islam has not been dulled, I tremble lest its sharp edge fall once more on the neck of my helpless race. If I knew and felt sure in mine own heart that the sword of Islam was dulled, I would be content to let bygones be bygones, and to hold my peace and be silent for ever. Like the sudden explosion of a volcano in the physical world, comes the explosion of a Turkish Massacre of Armenians in the moral world. It comes just in that way; the subterranean fires are always there, but all of a sudden the sulphur flames of religious fanaticism burst, the lava floods of race hatred and lust of plunder, break forth and run in fiery streams; the unfortunate victims are pounced upon, swooped upon, pillaged, plundered, butchered, slaughtered, subjected to outrages so hideous, cruel, loathsome, and revolting, that no pen could depict their horrible realities and the details can never go into print. The human mind is staggered and asks itself the question if even the imaginations of fiends and devils could originate such horrors. Then this orgy of the human fiends is arrested. For the time being the appetite for blood, lust, and plunder is satisfied; for the time being, the eye is content with the scenes of havoc and desolation lying under the sun; the | S e. O D U C T IO N T NT s* 1D TO 2sn PRINTING. MIy object in writing this little bool is to lay the hard case of my un- fortunate race before the men and women of the United States ; since it is fromy the United States that the American Missionaries have gone forth, who have been the only helping influence from without for my suffering people in Asiatic Turkey, To the earnest and devoted men and women of the American MIissions, we Armenians owe a debt of gratitude which we can never repay. If in the contents of the pages of this little book I have exaggerated Iacts by one whit or one iota, if I have deviated by one hair's breadth from the Truth, I stand to be jdged. '' God save us from another Adana, but the sword of Islam has not been dulled '' was one of the clarion notes sounded at the Sisth International Convention of the Student Volunteer Movement, which was held at Rochester, New York, The man who sounded that clarion note knew Islam, and because knowing of my own knowledge that the sword of Islamy has not been ddlulled, I tremble lest its sharp edge fall once more on the neck of my help- less race. IfI knew and felt sure in mine own heart that the sword of Islamy was dulled, I would be content to let bygones be bygones, and to hold my peace and be silent for ever. Lile the sudden explosion of a volcano in the physical world, comes the explosion of a Turkish MIassacre of Armenians in the moral world, It comes just in that way ; the subterranean fires are always there, but all of a sudden the sulphur flames of religious fanaticism burst, the lava floods of race hatred and lust of plunder, breal forth and run in fiery streams; the unfortunate victims are pounced upon, swooped upon, pillaged, plundered, butchered, slaughtered, subjected to outrages so hideous, cruel, loathsome, and revolt- ing, that no pen could depict their horrible realities and thhe details can never go into print, The human mind is staggered and asks itself the question if even the im)aginations of fiends and devils could originate such hhorrors, Then this orgy of the hnman fiends is arrested, Tor the time being thhe appetite for blood, lust, and plunder is satisfied ; for the time being, the eye is content with the scenes of havoc and desolation lying under the sun ; the |
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| 10 smell of corpses is in the air, the odor from the carcases of the “christian swine” reek in the nostrils of the Turk, he turns away, his jaws dripping with blood, and rests to couch for a future spring. We have seen that sort of an end to the tragedy of a tiger’s victim: the tiger has eaten his fill, he rests, to keep guard over the crunched bones and mangled bits of bloody flesh that bestrew the earth. So also now there is a residue left of those that have served as the meat and wine of this devil’s feast; the demons have gorged themselves over the banquet, and now there are left over the broken remains of the banquet, the miserable residue homeless and destitute. Civilized nations have received a temporary moral shock, like a shock that spreads from the centre of an explosion; the electric vibration running far and wide from the scene of the centre of devastation. There are among these civilized nations generous and kind-hearted people who open their purse strings; they give money to purchase shelter, food and clothing for these homeless, naked and hungry beggars, made homeless, naked and hungry through no fault of their own. But oh! ye generous and kind hearted people! can any power under heaven assuage the heart anguish of this miserable residue? Can they be made by any means of human comfort to forget the black horrors or recover from the effects of the fires of the hideous affliction through which they have passed? What is there left for a woman who has seen with her own eyes the slaughter and heard with her own ears the dying cry of her murdered child? even her reason must give way under the stress of her anguish. All ye who are mothers, I appeal to you, for one moment to put yourselves in the place of thousands of such mothers, in whose hearts the same mother’s love burns as in yours, and then measure the depth of their agony. Generous and kind hearted people who open your purse strings; would to God I entreat, ye would raise up your voices and demand that this hideous slaughter and oppression of a helpless christian race should cease. Would to God I entreat, ye would raise up your voices and demand that this people of an industrious, intelligent christian race, robust in mind and body, should be let to live. Would to God I entreat, that ye would raise up your voices and demand for them that security of life and property to which they are entitled just as equally as all other peoples. Public Sentiment has done great things in the world’s history. Public Sentiment liberated Greece, The Lebanon, The Balkan States from Turkish Oppression. Slavery was abolished in the United States through Public Sentiment: but alas! does Public Sentiment sleep for this helpless Christian race. Are they not God’s creatures? have they not a right to live on God’s | smell of corpses is in the air, the odor from the carcases of the '' christian swine'' reek in the nostrils of the Turk, he turns away, his jaws dripping with blood, and rests to couch for a future spring. We have seen that sortof an end to the tragedy of a tiger's victim : the tiger has eaten his fill, he rests, to keep guard over the crunched bones and mangled bits of bloody flesh that bestrew the earth. So also now there is a residue left of those that have served as thhe mcat and wine of this devil's feast ; the demons hhave gorged themselves over the banquet, and now, there are leff over the broken remains of the banquet, the mmiserable residue homeless and destitute. Civilized nations have received a temporary moral shock, like a shhock that spreads -from the centre of an esplosion ; the electric vibration running far and wide from the scene of the centre of devastation, There are among these civilized nations generous and kind-hearted people who open their purse strings; they give money to purchase shelter, food and clothing for these homeless, naked and. hungry beggars, made homeless, naked and hungry through no fault of their own, But ol! ye generous and kind heart- ed people ! can any power under heaven assuage the heart anguish of this miserable residue ? Can they be made by any means of human commfort to forget the black horrors or recover fromy the effects of the fires of the hideous affliction through which they have passed? WVhat is there left for a woman who has seen with her own eyes the slaughiter and heard wwith her own ears the dying cry of her murdered child ? even her reason must give way under the stress of her anguish. All ye whno are mothers, I appeal to you, for one moment to put yourselves in the place of thousands of such mothers, in whose hearts the same mother's love burns as in yours, and then measure the depth of their agony. Generous and kind hearted people who open your purse strings; would to God I entreat, ye would raise up your voices and demand that this hideous slaughter and oppression of a helpless christian race should cease. Would to God I entreat, ye would raise up your voices and demand that this people of an industrious, intelligent christian race, robust in mind and body, should be let to live. Would to God I entreat, that ye would raise up your voices and demand for them that security of life and property to which they are entitled just as equally as all other peoples, Public Sentiment has done great things in the world's history. Public Sentiment liberated Greece, The Lebanon, The DBalkan States from Turkish Oppression, Slavery was abolished in the United States through Public Sentiment: but alas ! does Public Sentiment sleep for this hhelpless Christian race. Are they not God's creatures? have they not a right to live on God's |
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| 11 earth as other nations? Does Humanity, does Christianity allow that tender babes and children should be hideously and horribly mutilated and butchered before the eyes of their mothers, or that the ears of mothers should be rent with the cries of the dying agony of their murdered children? Does Humanity, does Christianity allow that helpless women should be forcibly subjected to the most hideous, the most loathsome, the most revolting, and the most cruel outrages? Does Humanity, does Christianity, allow all this? Christian Governments have organized a Hague Conference of Peace and Civilization, but they have closed its doors to the cause of a bleeding christian race groaning under the yoke of the cruellest oppressors that the world has yet known. Christian men and women have held up their hands in horror at the Indian Juggernauth; but alas! the political wheels of Christian Governments have been a Greater Juggernauth for a helpless christian race. It is by Christian Governments that “we are made as the filth of the world, and as the offscouring of all things unto this day.” It is as if the answer to our groanings had been made by Christian Governments in just these words: “We know that you have had frightful grievances, such as have been beyond the measure of human endurance. We know that since the Treaty of Berlin your history has been written in blood and tears, as the history of no other nation has been written before or now. We know that your women are subjected to the most revolting and hideous agonies, and your babes and children hounded to hideous deaths. We know that the sum total of your wrongs and sufferings is so great, that the cry of its anguish is piercing the very heavens, but really, our political and commercial jealousies prevent; and we each one of us being on the look out lest our separate political and commercial interests in the Empire of your oppressors be endangered, cannot regard you. It may be the deadliest scandal of Christendom that we Christian Powers should be all gathered together, one against another, in the Empire of your Oppressors, as eagles gather together round a carcase; but really there is no help for it; and if you must die hideously by a hellish extermination, why then you must die, and we have to condone your hellish extermination, for in any case, each one of us must secure his own political and commercial interests in this same Empire of your Oppressors.” In “Transcaucasia and Ararat,” published by Mr. James Bryce in 1876, there occurs in the chapter entitled “Some Political Reflections” the following passage: “The attention of the West was so much drawn towards Herzegovina and Bulgaria by the events of 1876 that the miseries of the Asiatic subjects | earth as other nations? Does Humanity, does Christianity allow that tender babes and children should be hideously and horribly mutilated and butchhered before the eyes of their mothers, or that the ears of mothers should be rent with the cries of the dying agony of their, mmurdered children? Does Humanity, does Christianity allow that helpless women should be forcibly subjccted to the most hideous, the most loathsome, the most rcvolting, and the most crucl outrages? Does Humanity, does Christianity, allow all this? Christian Govcrnments have organized a Hague Conference of Peace and Civilization, but they have- closed its doors to the cause of a bleeding christian race groaning under the yoke of the cruellest oppressors that the worll has yet knowmn, Christian men and women hhave held up their hands in horror at the Indian [uggernauth ; but alas! the political whecls of Christian G overnments have been a Greater |uggernauth for a helpless christian race. It is by Christian Governments that '' we are made as the filth of the world, and as the offscouring of all things unto this day,'' It is as if the answer to our groanings had been made by Christian Governments in just these words : YVe know that you have hiad frightful grievances, such as have been beyond the measure of human endurance. We know thhat since the Treaty of Berlin your history has been written iin blood and tears, as the history of 1no other nation has been written before or now. WVe know thiat your women are subjected to the most revolting and hideous agonies, and your babes and children hounded to hideous deaths, WVe know that the sum total of your wrongs and sufferings is so great, that the cry of its anguish is piercing the very heavens, but really, our political and commercial jealousies prevent; and we each one of us being on the look out lest our separate political and commercial iinterests in the Empire of your oppressors be endangercd, can- not regard you. It may be the deadliest scandal of Christendomm that we Christian Powers should be all gathered together, one against anothher, in the Empire of your Oppressors, as eagles gather together round a carcase; but really there is no help for it; and if you must die hideously by a hellish extermination, why then you must die, and we have to condone your hellich extermination, for in any case, each one of us must secure his own political and commercial interests iin thhis samye Empire of your Oppressors,'' In ''Transcaucasia and Ararat,'' published by MIr, James Bryce in 1876, there occurs in the chapter entitled ''Some Political Reflections'' the follow- ing passage: 1he attention of the WVest was so much drawn towards Herzegovina and Bulgaria by the events of 1876 that the miserics of the Asiatic subjects |
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| 12 of the Porte have been unreasonably forgotten or neglected. They are fully as wretched as the Slavs or Cretans have been; and in so far worse off, that in Europe there exists no large body of tribes making murder and robbery its regular and daily occupation as the Kurds, and latterly the Circassians also, have done in Armenia. If anyone will take the trouble to read the complaints of oppressions and cruelties presented to the Porte by the Armenian Patriarchate in 1872 (since reprinted in England) and some of the more recent statements printed by the Armenians in England on the same topic, he will see that the state of Turkish Asia presents as grave and pressing a problem as that of Bulgaria itself.” In the 4th edition of the same book, published in 1896, the following note appears to the passage I have quoted: “Shortly after this was written, the Blue Books presented to Parliament, containing reports from British Consuls in Asiatic Turkey, showed that things were really far worse there than they had been in Bulgaria or Herzegovina.” What has followed since 1876 is too well known. For seeking redress from their frightful grievances the Armenians were hunted like wild beasts and killed like rats and flies during the Hamidian régime. You will tell me, my christian friends, that with the rise of the reform party in Turkey, the era of massacres is at an end, and I will tell you that the conditions of 1876 and 1896 have not actually changed, though they may seemingly appear so to the uninformed and uninitiated. I will answer you that the hideous massacres of April last happened nine months after the reform party first rose in power, and nine months after the inauguration of the Constitution. I do not question the goodwill of the reform party, but the reform party does not comprise the whole Turkish nation, and until the Turk learns to become liberal, civilized and human, there may be no more Armenians left, unless some Christian Power such as the United States demands their protection and enforces it. No! my Christian friends, it can be well for other Christians in the Turkish Empire with their powerful Governments at their back; but alas! there is no security for a subject people alien in race and religion. The massacres in April last raged from Adana to Alexandretta, and according to authenticated reports about fifty thousand men, women and children were hideously exterminated; more than this, the last massacres were especially characterized by the most hideous, the most loathsome, the most revolting and ferocious cruelties perpetrated on women and children. Now what other name can we find for the perpetrators of this diabolical | of the Porte have been unreasonably forgotten or neglected. They are fully as wretched as the Slavs or Cretans have been ; and in so far worse off, that in Europe there exists no large body of tribes making murder and robbery its regular and daily occupation as the Kurds, and latterly the Circassians also, have done in Armuenia. If anyone will take the trouble to read the complaints of oppressions and cruclties presented to the Porte by the Armyenian Patriarchate in 1S7a (since reprinted in England) and some ot the more recent statem)ents printed by the Armenians in England on the same topic, he will see that the state of Turkishh Asia presents as grave and pressiog a problem as that of Bulgaria itself.'' In the ;th edition of the same bool, published in 1Sg6, the following note appears to the passage I have quoted: ' Shortly after this was written, the Bluc Books presentedd to Parlia- ment, containing reports from British Consuls in Asiatic Turkey, siowed that things were really far worse there than they had been in Bulgaria or Herzegovina,' Wat has followed since 1876 is too well known, For seeking redress from their frightful grievances the Armenians were hunted lile wild beasts and killed lihe rats and flies during the Hamidian regime. You will tell me, mmmy christian friends, that with the rise of the reform party in Turkey, the era of massacres is at an end, and I will tell you that the conditions of 1876 and 18g6 have not actually changed, though they may seem)ingly appear so to the uninformyed and uninitiated, I will answer you that the hideous massacres of April last happened nine months after the reformmm party first rose in power, and nine months after the inauguration of the Constitution, I do not question the goodwill of the reform party, but the reform party does not comprise the whole Turkish nation, and until the Turk learns to become liberal, civilized and human, there mmay be no more Armenians left, unless some Christian Power such as the United States demands their protection and enforces it, No ! my Christian friends, it can be well (or other Christians in the Turkish Empire with their powerful Governmyents at their bacl ; but alas l there is no security for a subject pcople alien in race and religion. ahe massacres in April last raged fromy Adana to Alexandretta, and according to authenticated reports about fifty thousand men, women and chhildren were hideously exterminated ; m)ore than this, the last massacres were especially characterized by the most hideous, the most loathsome, the most revolting and ferocious cruelties perpetrated on women and children, Now what other name can we find for the perpetrators of this diabolical |
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| 13 orgy, except to call them fiends incarnate; and who is the bold man who can guarantee that these same fiends incarnate have become metamorphosed and changed all of a sudden; or that the handful of liberal Turks at Constantinople are capable of controlling and restraining them. We have not even heard that the leaders and participators of the last massacres have been punished as they deserved; and what is the reason they are left unpunished? because the Government is afraid to punish Mahommedans for killing Christians; because the liberal Turks dare not punish the “true believers” for killing “Kaffirs.” The religion of Mahommed, the religion of the sword, has been infused into the Turk, and to understand the effect of the religion of Mahommed upon the Turk, it is necessary to regard it from four aspects, or from four points of analysis. First, the fundamental doctrine and law of the religion. Second, the character of the founder as an example to his followers. Third, the racial and ethnographic characteristics of the Turk. Fourth, the effect which this particular religion would be likely to have on this particular race. When we have viewed the Turk and his government from these four points of analysis, we have the explanation of all the woe and desolation which have lain over the countries under Turkish rule. “When ye encounter the unbelievers strike off their heads until you have made a great slaughter of them” is a chapter of the Koran which the Turk has religiously and steadfastly made his creed. In conclusion, I will ask my readers to compare one point of difference between the two races, the oppressor and the oppressed. Thousands upon thousands of Armenian women, thousands upon thousands of Armenian children, have been hounded to death, or savagely, ferociously, horribly and loathsomely maltreated by the Turk, and yet in all the agonizing years when Massacre has succeeded upon Massacre, has there been one known case or one single instance of a Turkish woman or child maltreated by Armenians? The last massacres though especially organized from the Palace at Constantinople, were officially announced to originate from an affray between one Armenian and three Turks, in which the single handed one, on the one side, grappling with the three on the other, killed one of the three: given equal numbers and arms, the Armenian is always a match for the Turk, but alas for him that unequal numbers and want of arms have always made him the victim of his oppressor. Ahmed Riza Bey in the first part (Ses Causes) of his book “La Crise de L’Orient” published in Paris in 1907 holds a brief for his nation which through its own fallacious arguments falls to the ground. I will quote one passage as an example. | orgy, except to call them fiends incarnate; and who is the bold man who can guarantee thiat these sam1e fiends incarnate have becom1e metamyorplosed and changed all of a sudden; or that the handful of liberal Turks at Con- stantinople are capable of controlling and restraining them, We have not even heard that the leaders and participators of the last massacres have been punished as they deserved ; and what is the reason they are left un- punished ? because the Government is afraid to punish Mahomm:edans for lilling Christians; because the liberal Turks darc not punish the '' true believers '' for lilling '' Kaffirs.'' 1he religion of MIahommned, the religion of the sword, has been infused into the Turk, and to understand the effect of the religion of Mahommed upon the Turk, it is necessary to regard it from four aspects, or from four points of analysis, Tirst, the fundamental doctrine and law of the religion, Second, the character of the founder as an example to his followers, Third, the racial and ethnographic characteristics of the Turl. ourth, the effect which this particular religion would be lilely to have on this particular race. WVhen we have viewed the Turk and his governmyent from these four points of analysis, we have the explanation of all the woc and desolation which have lain over the countries under Turkish rule. ' WVhen ye encounter the unbelievers strile off their heads until you have made a great slaughter of themy '' is a chapter of the Koran which the Turk has religiously and steadfaastly made his creed. In conclusion, I will asl my readers to compare one point of difference between the two races, the oppressor and the oppressed. Thiousands upon thousands of Rrmenian women, tiotusands upon thousands of Armenian children, havc been hounded to death, or savagely, ferociously, horribly and loathsomyely maltreated by the Turk, and yet in all the agonizing years when NIassacre has succeeded upon NIassacre, has there been one known case or one single instance of a Turkish wcman or child maltreated by Armenians! Ihe last massacres though especially organized from the Palace at Constantinople, were officially announced to originate from an affray between one A rmenian and three Turks, in which the single handed one, on the one side, grappling with the three on the other, killed one of the three: given equal numbers and arms, the Armenian is always a match for the Turk, but alas for him that unequal numbers and want of armms have alrays made him the victim of his oppressor, Ahmyed Riza Bey in the first part (Ses Causes) of his bool '' La Crise de IL'Orient'' published in Paris in go7 holds a brief for his nation which through its own fallacious arguments falls to the ground. I will quote onc passage as an example. |
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| 14 “Jamais les populations chrétiennes ne se sont révoltées, spontanément, d’elles-mêmes. Les révoltes ont toujours été partielles et espacées, ce qui tend bien à prouver qu’elles sont provoquées non par certains injustices administratives que nous savons être constantes et les mêmes pour tous, mais par les sourdes menées de l’extérieur. Les agences consulaires, les écoles étrangères, les maisons des missionnaires, couvertes par les Capitulations, ont servi de foyer de propagande, de dépôts d’armes, et même de refuge pour les perturbateurs. Souvent les ambassadeurs sont intervenus pour faire gracier des rebelles pris et condamnés. On se rappelle avec quelle solennité les Arméniens qui s’étaient introduits dans la Banque Ottomane furent conduits sains et saufs à bord d’un bateau par le drogman de l’Ambassade russe—leur complice. “Si ces prétendus patriotards sont tant soutenus et choyés dans le monde occidental, c’est parce qu’ils constituent un élément ou plutôt un instrument de destruction au service de certains Européens élevés dans les préjugés des Croissades et qui crient avec Chateaubriand: (‘L’espèce humaine ne peut que gagner à la destruction de l’Empire Ottoman’).” The author of “La Crise de L’Orient” continues in this strain. Are we then to suppose that the British Consuls, men whose truthfulness has never been impeached, whose reports on the unsupportable sufferings of the subject christian races and the oppressions and hideous atrocities of the Turks, have filled volumes: and likewise the American Missionaries, men who have deservedly gained the honor and respect of the world, whose statements have corroborated the British Consular reports; have been according to Ahmed Riza Bey the mischief-makers in the Turkish Empire? since it is from them alone the world has gained the widest and most correct knowledge of the daily miseries and oppressions under which the subject Christian races have groaned. Are we also to suppose that men like Mr. James Bryce and Dr. Dillon have by mendacious writings upheld them, British Consul and American Missionary, liars, and mischief makers? Or rather are we not to suppose that if thinking men and women in the world have come to cry out with Chateaubriand “L’espèce humaine ne peut que gagner à la destruction de l’Empire Ottoman” it is because the Turks have earned the world’s condemnation through their own diabolical acts, and on account of the woe and desolation which Turkish rule has worked over the fairest provinces under the sun. If the Turk will turn from the evil of his ways unto good, the stigma of “the unspeakable Turk” which now attaches itself to him, will cease to be a veritable truth. The bringing about of the transformation rests with himself. | '' Jamais les populations chr2tiennes ne se sont rcvoltees, spontancment, d'elles-memes, Les revoltes ont toujours etee partielles et espacees, ce qui tend bien a prouver qu'elles sont provoquees non par certains injustices adm)inistrative que nous savons 2tre constantes et les mcmes pour totus, mais par les sourdes menees de lexterieur, Les agences consulaires, les Ccoles ctrangeres, les maisons des missionnaires, couvertes par les Capitula- tions, ont servi de foyer de propagande, de dp6ts d'armes, et mc2me de refuge pour les perturbateurs, Souvent les ambassadeurs sont intervenus pour faire gracier des rebelles pris et condamncs, On se rappelle avec quelle solennit les Armeniens qui s'etaient introduits dans la bBanque Ottomane furent conduits sains et saufs ä bord d'un bateau par le drogman de lAmbassade russe-leur complice. ''Si ces prctendus patriotards sonttant soutenus et choyCs dans le monde occidental, c'est parce qu'ils constituent un element ouu plutöt un instrument cle destruction au service de certains Europeens eleves dans les prejuges des Croissades et qui crient avec Chateaubriand: (' L'espe:e humaine ne peut 4ue gagner a la destruction de lEm;pire Ottoman').'' The author of '' La Crise de 'Orient'' continues in this strain. Are we then to suppose that the Britishh Consuls, men whose truthfulness has never been impeached, whose reports on the unsupportable sufferings of the subject christian races and the oppressions and hideous atrocities of the Turks, have filled volumes : and likewise the American NIissionaries, men wlio have deservedly gained the honor and respect of the world, whose statements have corroborated the ßritish Consular reports; have been according to Ahmed Riza Bey the mischiefmakers in the Turkish Empiref since it is from thhemy alone the world has gained the widest and most correct know- ledge of the daily miseries and oppessions under which the subject Christian araces have groaned. Are we also to suppose that men lile MIr, [ames JBryce and Dr. Dillon have by mendacious writings upheld them, British Consul and American NIissionary, liars, and mischief makers ? Or )rather are we not to suppose that if thinling men and women in the world lave come to cry out with Chateaubriand '' L'espece humaine ne peut que ggner a la destruction de l'Emppire Outoman '' it is because the Turks have earned the world's condemnation through their own diabolical acts, and on account of the woe and desolation wlich Turkish rule has worked over the fairest provinces under the sun, I! the Turk will turn from the cvil of his ways unto good, the stigma of '' thie unspealable Turl '' which now attaches itseli to him, will cease to be a veritable truth. The bringing about of the transformation rests with himself |
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| 15 Further in answer to Ahmed Riza Bey’s account of the Armenian “prétendus patriotards” in connection with the Ottoman Bank; I cannot do better than quote from Mr. Bryce’s version of the story, and the massacre that followed: “In the following June serious trouble arose at Van, where some sort of insurrection is said to have been planned, though in the discrepancy of the accounts it is hard to arrive at the truth. Masses of Kurds came down threatening to massacre the Christians, and a conflict in which many innocent persons perished, was with difficulty brought to an end by the intervention of the British Consul. A little later the Armenian revolutionary party, emboldened by the rising in Crete, where the Christians, being well armed and outnumbering the Muslims, held their ground successfully, issued appeals to the Embassies and to the Turkish Government to introduce reforms, threatening disturbances if the policy of repression and massacre was persisted in. These threats were repeated in August, and ultimately, on August 26, a band of about twenty Armenians, belonging the revolutionary party, made a sudden attack on the Imperial Ottoman Bank in Constantinople, declaring they were prepared to hold it and blow it up should the Sultan refuse their demand. They captured the building by a coup de main, but were persuaded by the Russian dragoman to withdraw upon a promise of safety. Meanwhile the Government, who through their spies knew of the project, had organised and armed a large mob of Kurds and Lazes—many of whom had recently been brought to the city—together with the lowest Turkish class. Using the occasion, they launched this mob upon the peaceful Armenian population. The onslaught began in various parts of the city so soon after the attack on the Bank that it had obviously been prearranged, and the precaution had been taken to employ the Turkish ruffians in different quarters from those in which they dwelt; so that they might less easily be recognised. Carts had moreover been prepared in which to carry off the dead. For two days an indiscriminate slaughter went on, in which not only Armenian merchants and traders of the cultivated class, not only the industrious and peaceable Armenians of the humbler class, clerks, domestic servants, porters employed on the quays and in the warehouses, but also women and children were butchered in the streets and hunted down all through the suburbs. On the afternoon of the 27th the British Chargé d’Affaires (whose action throughout won general approval) told the Sultan he would land British sailors, and the Ambassadors telegraphed to the Sultan. Then the general massacre was stopped, though sporadic slaughter went on round the city during the next few days. The Ambassadors, who did not hesitate to declare that the massacre had been organised by the Government, estimated the number of killed at from 6000 to 7000; the official report | Iurther in answer to Ahmed Riza Bey's account of the Armmenian '' pretendus patriotards '' in connection with the Ottoman Banl ; I cannot do better than quote from NIr, Bry ce's version of the story, and the massacrc that followed :'' In the following [unc serious trouble arose at Van, where som)e sort of insurrection is said to have been planned, though in the discre- pancy of the accounts it is hard to arrive at the truthh. NIasses of Kurds came down threatening to massacre the Christians, and a conflict in which many innocent persons perished, was with difficulty brought to an end by the intervention of the British Consul, A little later the Armcnian revolu- tionary party, emboldened by the rising in Crete, where the Christians, being well armed and outnumbering the NIuslims, held their ground successfully, issued appeals to the Embassies and to the 'Turlisl Government to introduce reformys, threatening disturbances if the policy of repression and massacre was persisfed in, These threats were repeated in August, and ultimyately, on August 26, a band of about twenty Armenians, belonging the revolutionary party, made a sudden attack on the Imyperial Ottoman Danl in Constan- tinopie, declaring they were prepared to hold it and blow it up should the Sultan refse their demand. 1hey captured the building by a cop ae wtaiu, but were persuaded by the Russian dragoman to withdraw upon a promise of safety, Meanwhile the Government, who throughh their spies knew of the project, had organised and armed a large mob of Kurds and Lazes-many of whom had recently been broughht to the city-together ith the lowest Turkish class, Using the occasion, they launched this mob upon the peace- ful Armenian population. The onslaught began in various parts ofthe city so soon after the attack on the Banl that it had obviously been prearranged, and the precaution had been taken to employ the Turkish ruffians in diffcrent quarters from those in which they dwelt ; so that they might less easily be recognised. Carts had moreover been prepared in which to carry off the ddead. For two days an indiscrimyinate slaughter went on, in which not only Arm)enian merchants nnd traders of the cultivated class, not only the indus- trious and peaceable Armenians of the humbler class, clerks, domestic ser- vants, porters employed on the quays and in the warehouses, but also women and children were butchered in the streets and huntcd down all through the suburbs. On the afternoon of the a7th the British Charg6 d'Affaires (whose action throughout won general approval) told the Sultan he would land British sailors, and the Ambassadors telegraphed to the Sultan, Then the general massacre was stopped, thhough sporadic slaughter went on round the city during the next few days, The Ambassadors, who did not hesitate to declare that the massacre had been organised by the Government, estimated the number of killed at from 6ooo to 7oOO; the official report |
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| 17 was a race up to that time among non-Moslem peoples which with sincere and deep feeling honored the Ottoman fatherland that race was the Armenian. It is the Armenians who wear most nearly the national dress, who speak and write Turkish best, and recognize the Ottoman country as their fatherland. Besides this it is the Armenians who engage in commerce and agriculture, and thus, by demonstrating its fruitfulness, increase the value of the Ottoman Empire. Because a few among them justly started an agitation, these our noble and industrious brethren were being massacred. What a terrible scene! When we left the school building we saw hundreds of the bodies of our Armenian compatriots being removed in manure carts; legs and arms were hanging down outside. This bloody scene will ever remain impressed on my mind. “This shocking crime of Yildiz formed a deep lake of blood, and this lake, during the whole course of a cursed absolutism, up to the last moment, grew wider. Even during the past nine months of the Constitution, in spite of the brotherly feelings which had been shown, the awful events in Adana took place and the souls of all true Osmanlis melted into tears. Up to the present time the deep sorrow caused by this event has not disappeared, because this bloody wound in our social body cannot easily be cured. While we fill our stomachs with choice morsels, while we rest selfishly in our comfortable beds, these fatherless and brotherless orphans, widows hungry, naked, and barefoot wander hither and thither, and thousands of families are fleeing from the fatherland. We are convinced that the government is doing its work, but what has happened is so great a calamity that it can keep a government busy for years. However much sacrifice we may make, still it will be inadequate, because the happiness of the fatherland depends on healing such blood wounds as these as soon as possible. We are convinced that the government and all connected with it are persuaded of this as well as ourselves. We must now wipe out the traces of the misfortune brought by a cursed period. We must now comfort weeping hearts. We must understand and teach those who do not understand that patriotism and brotherhood do not differ from each other. The responsibility of the government for the Armenians is very great and very weighty. The whole Ottoman nation is under obligations to protect this suffering race, because the liberty we enjoy to-day is in large part due to the blood shed by the Armenians. We thought that these truths were so obvious that we preferred to keep silence, whereas to-day we understand that it is necessary from time to time to recall the greatness of our obligation. We must not forget that this unhappy people up to yesterday has endured only barbarism, and for twelve years has been constantly oppressed and ground to the earth, and has given thousands of victims. Hereafter we must work to assure them that the era of massacres has passed, and with all our strength of mind and soul we must quiet them. The obligation of the government to protect them is also very heavy, because our Armenian countrymen live among wandering tribes. We must all assist the government and point out its obligation. It must be declared in public and periodically that the one of the most important duties of the Ottoman nation is to protect, together with those of other races, the interests, the life, and property of the Armenians as well, since these are their sacred rights. Let investigations be made and let whatever is necessary be done in order to reach this aim.” This article of the Turkish officer, who however does not dare disclose his identity; and the account given by an authority like Mr. James Bryce surely refute the facile explanation of Ahmed Riza Bey in alluding to the Massacres as “les Massacres occasionnés par les aventuriers Arméniens.” Indeed it holds out poor hope for the furtherance of liberty and justice in Turkey when the man who is the President of the Chamber of Deputies only | asw=' A ( t Y -' -., wns a racc up t that time nmong non-Noslem ppcoples which with sinccre and deep feeling lonorcd the Ottomn fthherland that racc was the A)rmenian, It is the .urmenians whio wear most nearly the nntional dress, who spcal nnd write Turlish bbest, and rccognize the Ottoumnn country ns their fatherlnnd, lßesiles this it is the Armeninns who cugnge in eommerce and agriculture, and thus, by demonstrating its fruitfulness, incrcase the value of the Ottomnn llm)pire. lßecause a few mong thcm justly started an agitntion, thcse our nohlc nnd industrions brcthren were being 1massncred, Wlat n terrille seene! When we za>4zz\<z2:a: ever remain immpresscd on my mind, ' This shocking crime of Yildiz formed a deep lke of blool, and this lnke, during the whole course of n cursed absolutism, up to the lnst moment, grew wider, IZyen during the pnst nine month of the Constitution, in spite of the brotherly feclings which hud been shown, the awful events in Adana tool place and the souls of ll true Osmnnnlis meltel into tears, U p to the present time the deep sorrow caused y this cvcnt has not disappearcd, bccause this bloody wound iu our social body cannot easily be cured, wVhile we fill our stomachs with choice morsels, wlile we rest selfishly in our comfortabble beds, thhese ftherless nnd brotherless orphans, widows hungry, nalkked, and barcfoot wnnder hithcr nnd thither, nnd thousnnds of families nre fleeing from the ftherlaand. We are convinced that thhe governmment is doing its work, but what has happened is so great a calnmity that it can keep a government husy for years, IIowever much sacrifice we mny mnkc, still it will he inadequate, becnusc thc nppiness of the fitherlnnd depends on bealing such blood wounds ns these as soon as possible, go* w e are convineed thnt the government and all conunected with it nre persuaded of this as well as ourselres, Wo must now wipe out the traces of the misfortune brought by n eursel period. We must now comfort weeping hearts, W'e must understand and teach those who do not understand thnt patriotism and brotherhool d not diffcr from cachh other, 'The responsibility of the government for the Armenians is very great and very weighty, The whole Ottoman nation is under obligations to proteet this suffering racc, becauso the liberty we cnjoy to-dny is in lnrge purt due to the bblood shed by the Armenians, We thought that these truthis were so obvious that we preferred to keep silence, whereas to-day we understand that it is 1neeessary from time to time to recall the grcatness of our obligatiun, We must not forget that this unhapnnv people up to yesterday has eudured only barbarisvm, and for twelve years las been constantly oppresscd and ground to the earth, and has given thousands of victims, Hereafter we must work to assure them that the era of massacrcs has pnssed, and withh all our strength of mind and soul we must quiet them. The obligation of the goverument to protect them is also very hheavy, because our Armeninn conntrymen live among wandering tribes, Wo must all assist the government and point out its obligation, It mmst be declnred in public and periodically that the oue of the most important duties uf the Ottoman nation is to ppprotect, together with those of other races, the interests, the life, and property of thie AArmeninns as well, since thlese are their saered rights, Let investigations be made and lct whatever is necessnry he done in order to rench this aim.'' rg4 t is article of the Turkish officer, who howcver does not dare disclose his identity; and the account given by an authhority like Mr, [ammes ryce surely refute the facile esplanation of Ahmed Rza Bey in alluding to the NIassacres as '' les MIassacres occasionnes par les aventuriers Armeniens,'' Indeed it holds out poor hope for the furtherance of liberty and just=s. -. ire inn urkey when the man who is the President of the Chamber of Deputies only |
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| 18 as far back as 1907 tries to palliate the horrors of the Hamidian régime by misrepresentations. The author of “La Crise de l’Orient” also cites the Japanese as an instance of the civilization and aptitude for progress of a non-Christian oriental race. In this case, Ahmed Riza Bey certainly needs to measure the distance between the mental, moral and humane qualities of the Japanese and the Turk, a distance as great as lies geographically between the North Pole and the South. | 18 as far back as 1go7 tries to palliate the iorrors of the Hamidian regime by misreprcsentations, The author of '' La Crise de l'Orient'' also cites the [apanese as an instance of the civilization and aptitude for progress of a non-Christian oriental race. In this case, Ahmed Riza Bey certainly needs to measure the distancc between the mental, moral and humane qualities of the [apanese and the Turk, a distance as great as lies geographically between the North Pole and the South. |
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| PART I. THE ARMENIAN MASSACRES AND THE TREATY OF BERLIN. Since the gathering of the Plenipotentiaries of Europe at the famous Congress of Berlin in 1878, and the signing of the still more famous Treaty of Berlin, the martyr roll of the unfortunate Armenian nation stands without its parallel in history. In the Guildhall at Berlin hangs a picture of the memorable scene witnessed in that city on July the thirteenth 1878. The painter has depicted the proud array of representatives of the powerful Governments of Europe, but in the interests of Humanity there should be attached to that painting the wording of Article 61 of the Treaty of Berlin written in letters of blood (Armenian blood). It was a curious irony of Fate, that although the taking of “the terrible stronghold of Kars,� universally admitted to be one of the greatest and most difficult military exploits ever achieved, and the crowning success of the Russian arms in Asiatic Turkey, should have been accomplished by an Armenian General; that although Armenian Generals in the Russian service had led to conquest, and Armenian soldiers fought, conquered and died, yet by these successes not only was no amelioration attained of the hard fate of their unhappy nation under Turkish rule, but that fate, hard before, was made a hundredfold and even a thousandfold harder. GENERAL PRINCE LORIS MELIKOFF. Commanded the Russian forces in Asiatic Turkey during the Russo-Turkish war and captured the impregnable fortress of Kars. Appointed Prime Minister of Russia by Alexander II. The liberal policy which characterized the reign of that excellent monarch, and the Constitution that he was on the eve of granting to his people were influenced by Melikoff; but after the death of Alexander II he was not allowed to continue in his good work of reforming Russia, being overthrown from office early in the reign of Alexander III. | T N T5 rp^ T A + = aN 1 1. 'TIIE A1wuS AN MIASSACrES AN1D 'THDA YIT2Ntr rpTY EA'TY O1 i5t,e--s. rs -p5 T T NT Since the gathering of the Plenipotentiaries of Europe at the famous Congress of BBerlin in 1S7S, and the signing of the still more fmous Treaty of Berlin, the martyr roll of the unfortunate Armenian nation stands without its parallel in history. In the Guildhall at Berlin hangs a picture of the mcmorable scene witnessed in that city on fuly the thirteenth 1S7S. The painter has depicted the proud array of representatives of the powerful Goyernments of Europe, but in the interests of Humanity there should be attachied to that painting the wording of Article 6 of the Treaty of Berlin written in letters of blood (Armenian blood). It was a curious irony of Fate, that although thc taking of '' the terrible stronghold of Kars,'' universally admitted to be one of the greatest and most difficult mmilitary exploits ever achieved, and the crowning success of the Russian arms in Asiatic Turkey, should have becn accomplished by an Armenian General; that although Armenian Generals in the Kussian service hadd led to conquest, andd Arm)enian soldiers fought, conquered and died, yet by these successes not only was no amelioration attained of the hard fate of their unbappy nation under Turlish rule, but that fate, hard before, was made a hundredfold and even a thhousandfold ha rder. , o. eA4 h - = , '2e'' 2A- o', g-> sA d +. r , - GEN ERAL FRINCE LOHIS MELIKOFF. CCommauded the Ilussinn frces in Asintie Turkey during the Iusso-Turki\<h wnr nnd cnpturcddd the im- pregnablc fortress of Knrs, Appointed Prime inister of Russin by Alesnnder II. 1he lilerl policy which charncterized the reign of that cscellent monnrch, nnd the Constitution that he wns on tho cve of granting to hi- people were iufluenccd by N!elikofl ; bt nfter the deathi of Alesnnder II he wns not allowed to continue in his good work of reforming Iussia, being overthrown fromy office early in thhe rcign of Alesnder III. |
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| 20 The efforts of the Armenians, and the entreaties of their Patriarch Nerses had procured the insertion of Article 16 in the Treaty of San Stefano signed between Russia and Turkey in March 1878. In fact the wording of the Article had been suggested by the Patriarch himself. It provided the following stipulation for the protection of the Armenians:— “As the evacuation by the Russian troops of the territory which they now occupy in Armenia, and which is to be restored to Turkey, might give rise to conflicts and complications detrimental to the maintenance of good relations between the two countries, the Sublime Porte engages to carry into effect without further delay the improvements and reforms demanded by local requirements in the provinces inhabited by the Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Kurds and Circassians.” What followed has passed into history. The British Government of which Lord Beaconsfield (then Mr. D’Israeli) was Premier, and Lord Salisbury Foreign Secretary, once more pursued the old policy of baffling Russian aggrandizement in Turkey. Afraid that her own real or fancied interests would thereby become imperilled, England threw in the weight of her power, and virtually commanded the substitution of the Treaty of Berlin in lieu of the Treaty of San Stefano. Thus the substantial guarantee of a natural and immediate protector, both able and desirous of enforcing the protection which the Armenians then had in Russia, was taken away, and the security of impotent words given in its stead, namely:— “The Sublime Porte undertakes to carry out without further delay the improvements and reforms demanded by local requirements in the provinces inhabited by the Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Circassians and Kurds. It will periodically make known the steps taken to this effect to the Powers, who will superintend their application.” “It will periodically make known the steps taken to this effect to the Powers, who will superintend their application.” How this last proviso could furnish food for laughter were it not for the terrible tragedy involved in it. The insertion of Article 61 in the Treaty of Berlin, granted, or rather seemingly granted, by the six Powers of Europe, proved in reality, as subsequent events bore out, an instrument of death and torture. It was as if the reversal of the figures had reversed the possibilities of succour and protection, and with the death of the Czar Liberator, the last chance of the Armenians died. The Turkish Massacres of 1875 and 1876 which led up to the Russo-Turkish War of 1877 are historical facts too well known to need further | The efforts of the Armyenians, and thie entreaties of their Patrinrch Nerses had procured thhe insertion of Article 16 in the Treaty of San Stefano signed between Russia and 'Turkey in NIarch 187S. In fact the wording of the Article had been suggested by the Patriarch himself. It provided the following stipulation for the protection of thie Armenians :- ''As the evacuation by the Russian troops of the territory which they now occupy in Armenia, and which is to be restored to Turkey, might give rise to conflicts and com)plications detrimental to the mmaintenance of good relations between the two countries, the Sublimye Porte engages to carry into effect without further delay the im)provements and reformys demanded by local requirem)ents in the provinces inhabited by the Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Kurds and Circassians,' WVhat followed has passed into listory, The British Government of which Lord Beaconsfield (then MIr, D'Israeli) was Premier, and Lord Salis- bury Foreign Secretary, once more pursued the old policy of baffling Russian aggrandizement in Turley, Afraid that her own real or iancied interests would thereby become imperilled, England thhrew in the weight of her power, and virtually commanded the substitution of the Treaty of Berlin in lieu of the Treaty of San Stefano. Thus the substantial guarantee of a natural and immediate protector, both able and desirous of enforcing the protection which the Arm)enians then had in Kussia, was taken away, and the security of im- potent words given in its stead, namely :-- 'The Sublimye Porte undertales to carry out without further delay the improvements and reforms demanded by local requiremyents in the provinces inlabited by the Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Circassians and Kurds. It will periodically make known the steps talen to this effect to the I'owers, wlo will superintend their application,' '' If oi perioica'(y u:a2e änow te steps 4aen to 44is e9ect to tie Fovers, 4äo zai4 sperinten täeir appcation,'' How this last proviso could furnish food for laughter were it not for thhe terrible tragedy involvcd in it. The insertion of Article 61 in the Treaty of Berlin, granted, or rather seemingly granted, by the sis Powers of Europe, proved in reality, as sub- sequent events bore out, an instrument of death and torture, It was as if the reversal of the figures had reversed the possibilities of succour and protection, and with the deathh of the Czar Liberator, the last chance of the Armenians died. T'he Turkisl Massacres of 1875 and 1876 which led up to the Russo- Turkish War of 1S77 are historical facts too well known to need further |
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| 24 That the Armenians should be constantly appealing to the Power that had pledged itself for their protection, and that the same Power should be constantly rallying the others, and making Ambassadorial demonstrations, was enough to rouse the vilest passions of a nature in which no feelings except vile passions existed. Of all sins in this world, perhaps the sin of foolishness receives the severest punishment, and of all crimes, the crime of failure meets with the heaviest doom. For their foolishness in trusting in European protection and hoping for European intervention the unfortunate Armenians paid with rivers of their own blood, and for their crime of failure they were made to wallow in that blood. The darkest pages of their history have been written in the closing years of the nineteenth, and the early years of the twentieth century; never since the loss of their independence, nine centuries ago, had they hoped for so much, and never had they paid so dearly for their folly. If they had carefully laid to heart the whole history of Europe’s intercourse with Asia, beginning with the conquests of the Macedonian Alexander, they would have read in the light of sober judgement, self-interest, and self-interest only written on every line and page, but they committed the folly of GENERAL TER GOUKASSOFF. Relieved the beleaguered Russian garrison at Bayazid during the Russo-Turkish war of 1877, captured the fortress; and otherwise distinguished himself during the war. The other Armenian General who distinguished himself during the Russo-Turkish war was General Lazaroff. | 21 That the Armenians shhould be constantly appealing to the Power that had pledged itself for their protection, and that the same Power should be constantly rallying the others, and making Ambassadorial demonstrations, was enough to rouse the vilest passions of a nature in whichh no feelings except vile passions existed. Of all sins in this world, perhaps the sin of foolishness receives the scverest punishm)ent, and of all crimes, the crime of failure meets with the leaviest doom, For their foolishness in tusting in European protection and hioping for European intervcntion the unfortunate Armenians paid with rivers of their own blood, and for their crime of failure they were made to wallow in that blood, The darkest pages of their history have been written in the closing years of the nineteenth, and the early years of the twentieth century ; never since the loss of their independence, nine centuries ago, had they hoped for so much, and never had they paid so dearly for their folly, If they had carefully laid to heart the whole history of Europe's inter- coursc with Asia, beginning with the conquests of the Nacedonian Alesander; they would have read in the light of sober judgement, selfinterest, and self- interest only written on every linc and page, but they committed the folly of - : -.'- S2;*s- aA rA5* - ' ' N4. aA Si - 9 sa7 e=@ aeA aaCS \<8.- 28s S ' --+-8S8 x'' w-. -\&a w ,*- , .- '* - . ee%Mi . --? - = e . a . 1 5- ] s fS 1877, captured the fortrcss ; nnd otherwiso 5] tinguished himself during the inssn-Turkisl 8 @4+ = T'sEA==e+! s+SSESS5 g%=EP: ] ==2 Eg- S48R -=- 5SR: e@S-. es84e=.- S@==+--- N-3 -.. +r s., -. '- nt lnynzil during thhe Ilusso-Trki-h war uf - g- '^ ' 5R] 'The other Armcnian Genernl who dis- . (-A --\< %5V Ielicved the beleaguered I!ussinn gnrrison . ^@+] distinguishel limself during the wnr, % - - s . -: d ENER AI. TER GOUKASSOFF. wnr was General Lnzaroff, |
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| 25 hoping that for their sakes the history of the world, which means in other words the history of human selfishness, was going to be reversed; and they forgot what was more important than all, that Europe had nothing to gain by their emancipation. There is only one explanation for their folly. It is a peculiarity of human nature that the troubles we have been bearing with more or less patience, become unbearable when once hopes of deliverance from them are awakened. Article 61 of the Treaty of Berlin awakened hopes that proved bitterer in the eating than Dead Sea fruit. It aroused towards the Armenians the diabolical animosity of the human fiend who held sovereignty over them. Hunted like wild beasts, killed like rats and flies, out of the depths of its agony and its martyrdom, the nation has still contrived to rear its head and live; for it was as it is now, the industrious, energetic, self-respecting element in the Turkish Empire, with a virile life in its loins and sinews, that centuries of oppression culminating in the unspeakable horrors of a thirty years’ martyrdom has failed to exterminate. As for the Treaty of Berlin—It has done its work. THE ARMENIAN MASSACRES AND THE TURKISH CONSTITUTION. The Turkish Constitution came with a bound that shook the equanimity of Europe. To the anxious and jealously watching eyes of Europe the “sick man in her midst” was at last becoming moribund. His recovery was as startling as unexpected. Europe had not correctly gauged the latent forces within the Turkish Empire, neither had she correctly estimated the far-reaching astuteness of the tyrant on the throne. Assailed by enemies from without and within, feeling the foundation of his throne crumbling, Abdul Hamid, arch murderer and assassin, performed his own auto da fé, and rose from his ashes a constitutional sovereign. The obduracy of the merciless tyrant melted like wax before the approach of personal danger, and the act was necessary to save himself. Hopes rose high at such a magnificent coup d’état of the revolutionaries. Young Turks and Armenians fell on each other’s necks, embraced, and mingled their tears of joy together. Leaders of the Turkish Constitution | hoping that for their sales the history of thhe world, which means in other words the history of human selfishness, was going to be reversed ; and they forgot wlat was more important than all, that Europe had nothing to gain by their emancipation, There is only oine explanation for their folly, It is a peculiarity of human nature that thc troubles we hhave been bearing with more or less patience, become unbearable when once hiopes of deliverance from thnem are awakened. Article 61 of the Treaty of Berlin awakened hopes that proved bitterer in the eating than Dead Sea fruit, It aroused towards the Armenians the diabolical animosity of the human fiend who held sovereignty over them. Hunted like wild beasts, killed lile rats and flies, out of the depths of its agony and its martyrdom, the nation has still contrived to rear its head and live; for it was as it is now, the industrious, energetic, selfrespecting element i the Turkish Empire, with a virile life in its loins and sinews, that centuries of oppression culminating in the unspealable horrors of a thirty years' martyrdom has filed to exterminate. As for the Treaty of Berlin-It has done its work. THE ARMENIAN MASSACRES ANL ++- tp^p T5 T' s+r.KISH CONSTITUTION. he Turkish Constitution came with a bound that shool the equanimity of Europe. To the anxious and jealously watching eyes of Europe the '' sick man in her midst '' was at last becoming moribund. His recovery was as startling as unexpected. Europe had not correctly gauged the latent forces within the Turlish EZmpire, neither had she correctly estimated the far-reaching astuteness of the tyrant on the throne. Assailed by enemies from without and within, feeling the foundation of his throne crumbling, Abdul Hamid, arch mmurderer and assassin, performed his own ato a /e, and rose fromm his ashes a constitutional sovereign, The obduracy of the merciless tyrant melted like wax before the approach of personal danger, and the act was necessary to save himself. Hopes rose high at such a magnificent cop a'efdz of the rcvolutionaries. Young Turks and Armenians fell on each other's necks, embraced, and mingled their tears of joy together. Leaders of the Turkish Constitution |
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| 27 No one doubts that a great forward movement is reaching its culminating point in the destiny of Asia. The West has learnt its all of religion (the moral and guiding principle of mankind) from the East, and now the East would fain learn the law of restraint and the law of freedom (the protecting principles of mankind) from the West. Inspired by this feeling the liberal Turks decidedly mean well, and they are animated with a sincere desire to ensure peace and security of life and property for the heterogeneous peoples under the Turkish sway, but they themselves have had to contend and still have to contend with a fanatical populace. To the Mahommedan world at large the Caliph of Islam is the envoy of God, the sacredness of whose person must be inviolate. Abdul Hamid, the astute politician, knew that the security of his sovereignty depended on his Caliphal rights, and his main policy during the long period of his execrable reign had been directed towards preserving and asserting the same; thus we can see how his dethronement, which the liberal Turks would gladly have accomplished simultaneously with the inauguration of the Constitution, had to be deferred to a later period, and how it was necessary for the Sheik ul Islam to pronounce the Caliph a traitor to his sacred trust, a violator of the holy law of the Prophet, before his dethronement could be dared or accomplished. The Christian Armenians in Turkey live in the midst of the followers of a hostile religion, with no power or force behind them which makes for protection. Who does not know that the great numerical preponderance of Hinduism keeps the balance of power in India, and restrains bloody religious hostilities; and when we review the whole religious history of Christian Europe, and that terribly long roll of crimes committed in the name of Him who expounded His religion with the parable of the Good Samaritan, and the precept of loving one’s neighbour as one’s self, we cannot feel surprise at the fanatical outbursts of the followers of Mahommed, the founder of a religion whose doctrines certainly fall short of the humane principles inculcated by the Founder of Christianity. If authentic historical facts prove to us that horrible and atrocious cruelties have been perpetrated by Christian nations, not only on other religionists, but on fellow Christians of different denominations, how then can we expect better things from the Turk unless some power or force restrain him? Christianity has now partly emancipated herself from the ferocities which darkened and poured the red stream of blood on her white banner: but to the Mahommedan world at large, religion is still the powder magazine which a spark can ignite. | No one doubts that a great forward movemyent is reaching its culmyinat- ing point in the destiny of Asia, The West has learnt its all of religion (the moral and guiding principle of manlind) from the East, and now the East would fain learn the law of restraint and the law of freedom (the protecting principles of mankind) from the West. Inspired by this feeling the liberal Turls decidedly mean well, and they are animated with a sincere desire to ensure peace and security of life and property for the heterogencous peoples under the Turkish sway, but they themselves have had to contend and still lave to contend with a fanatical populace. To the MIahommedan world at large the Caliph of Islam is the envoy of God, the sacredness of whose person must be inviolate. Abdul Hanvid, Uhe astute politician, knew that the security of his sovereignty dependedd on his Caliphal riglts, and his mai policy during the long period of his esecrable reign had been directed towards preserving and asserting the sam)e; thus we can see how his dethronement, which the liberal Turks would gladly lave accompiished simultaneously with the inauguration of the Constitution, had to be deferred to a later period, and how it was necessary for the She l ul Islam to pronounce the Caliph a traitor to hhis sacred trust, a violator of the holy law of the Irophet, before his dethronement could be dared or g ' accomplished. Ihe Christian Armenians in Turkey live in the myidst of the followers of a hostile religion, with no power or force behind them which males for protection. Who does not know that the great nummerical preponderance of Hinduism) keeps the balance of power in India, and restrains bloody religious hostilities ; and when we review the whole religious history of Christian Europe, and that terribbly long roll of crimcs commmitted in the name of Hlim who expounded His religion with the parable of the Good Samaritan, and the precept of loving one's neighbour as one's self, we cannot feel surprise at the fanatical outbursts of the followers of NIahommed, the founder of a religion whose doctrines certainly fall short of the humane principles nculcated by the Founder of Christianity, If authentic historical facts prove to us that horrible and atrocious cruelties have been perpetrated by Christian nations, not only on other religionists, but on fellow Christians of different denominations, how then can we expect better things from the lurk unless some power or force restrain himm ? Christianity has now partly emancipated herself from the ferocities which darkened and poured the red stream) of blcod on her white banner : but to the NIahommedan world at large, religion is still the powdler magazine which a spark can ignite. |
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| 31 like a round bow, a great brown eye revealed the inward spirit’s intelligence and zeal unquenched. On his head was a close-fitting cap of purple velvet. Thus, near the end of last December, one of a century’s greatest men—Mgrditch Khrimian, Katholikos of the Armenian Church, and soul of the Armenian people—slowly approaching to death, lay in the ancient monastery called Etchmiatzin, or “The Only-Begotten is Descended.” From the window of a neighboring room he might have looked across the frost bound plain of the Araxes, where the vines were now all cut close and buried for the winter. Beyond the plain stood a dark mass of whirling snow and hurricane that hid the cone of Ararat. And just beyond Ararat lies Lake Van, last puddle of the Deluge. On the shore of that lake, eighty-seven years ago, Khrimian was born. In 1820 the Turkish Empire was still undiminished by sea or land; the Sultan still counted as one of the formidable Powers of Europe. It was four years before Byron set out to deliver Greece from his tyranny, and established for England a reputation as the generous champion of freedom—a reputation which still rather pathetically survives throughout the Near East. Long and stormy had been the life upon which the Katholikos now looked back, but not unhappy, for from first to last it had been inspired by one absorbing and unselfish aim—the freedom and regeneration of his people. It is true he had failed. From his earliest years, when he had witnessed the terrors of Turkish oppression in the homes of Armenians round Ararat, he was possessed by the spirit of nationality—such a spirit as only kindles in oppressed races, but dies away into easygoing tolerance among the prosperous and contented of the world. He began as a poet, wandering far and wide through the Turkish, Persian, and Russian sections of Armenia, visiting Constantinople and Jerusalem, and recalling to his people by his poems the scenes and glories of their national history. Entering the monastic order after his wife’s death, he devoted himself to the building of schools, which he generously threw open to Kurds, the hereditary assassins of Armenians. For many years, while Europe was occupied with Crimean wars, Austrian wars, or French and German wars, we see him ceaselessly journeying from Van to Constantinople and through the cities of Asia, unyielding in the contest, though continually defeated, his schools burned, his printing-presses broken up, his sacred emblems of the Host hung in mockery round the necks of dogs. When elected Armenian patriarch of Constantinople (1869), he was driven from his office after four years. But the cup of Turkish iniquity was filling. The pitiless slaughter of Bulgarians and Armenians alike was more than even the European Powers could stand. With varied motives, Russia sent her armies to fight their way to the walls of Constantinople, and Khrimian found himself summoned to plead his people’s cause before the Congress of Berlin. Though he speaks no language but Armenian and Turkish, he visited all the great courts of Europe beforehand, urging them to create an autonomous neutral state for Armenia, as they had done with success for the Lebanon. In London he became acquainted with Gladstone; but Gladstone was then only the blazing firebrand which had kindled the heart of England, and, in the Congress itself Khrimian could gain nothing for his people beyond the promises of Article 61, pledging the Powers, and especially England, to hold the Kurds in check and enforce Turkey’s definite reforms. It is needless to say that none of these promises and pledges were observed. Beaconsfield returned to London amid shouts of “Peace with Honor,” and Armenia was left to stew. So it went on. Detained in Constantinople as prisoner, banished to Jerusalem for rebellion, and finally chosen Katholikos, or head of his Church and race, by his own people, he maintained the hopeless contest. Year by year the woe increased, till by the last incalculable crime (1894-1896), the Armenians were slaughtered like sheep from the Bosporus to Lake | like n round bow, a great bmown eyu revealed thhe inwurd spirit's intelligence and zeal un- quenchhed. On his head was n close-fitting cap of purple velvet. alus, near the end of lnst JDecemler, one of a ccntury's greatest men--MIgrditch auhriminn, Kntholikos of the Armenian Church, and soul of the Armeninn pcople-slowly approachiug to death, lay in the ancient monastery callel lGtclmiatzin, or''Tho Only-llegotten i4 Descended,'' From the window of n ncighboring room he might hnve looked across thhe frost bound plnin of the A rnxes, where the viucs were now nll cut closc nnd buricd for the winter, IBeyond the plnitu stood a dark mass of whirling suow and lmrricane that hid thhe conc of Ararat. And jnst beyond Arnrat lies linke Vnn, lst puddle of the l)eluge. Un the shhore of that Inkc, eighty-scven years ago, Khrimmmin was born, T 1820 the Turkish JLmpire was still undiminished by sea or lnnd ; the Sultnn still counted as one of the formid- nble 1'owers of Europc. It wns four years before IByron -ct out to deliver Grcece from hhi. tyranny, and estahlished for lCngland a reputation as the geuerous champion of frecdouu--n rcputntion which still rather pathcticnlly survivcs throughout the Nenr i nst, l.ong and stormy bad been the life upon whiel the Kntholikos now luoked back, lut not unlappy, for from first to last it lnd been inspired by onc alsorbing and unselfish aim--the freedom and regcncration of his pcople. It is truc he hnd fnilod. From his cnrliest yenrs, when le hadd witncssed the terrors of 'Thrlish oppresion in the liomes of A rtmeuians round .rnrat, he was possessed by the spirit of nationnlity-such a spirit as only liudles in oppressed raccs, but dics awuy into ensygoing tolerance nmong thhe prosperous and contcnted of the world. IIe began as a poet, wandering fr and wile through the Turlish, Iersian,and (ussian sections of \&rmenia, visiting Constantinople and Jerusulem, nnd rccalling to his pcople by lis pocms thic scenes and glorics of their nntionnl history, TEntering the monnstic order after his wife's death, he devoted himself to the building of schools, whicl he generously threw open to Kuurds, the hereditnry assassins of A1menians, For many yenrs, while Europe was occupied with Crimmcan wnrs, A ustrian wars, or Frcnch and Uerman wars, we see him ceaselessly journeying from V :mm to Constantiuople and through the citics of Asii, unyieldiug in the contest, though continually defcntcd, his schools burned, his printing-presses broken up, his sacred emilems of the Host hung in mockcry round the nccks ' e of dogs, When elected Armenian pntriarch of Constantinople (186), he was driven from lis oflice nfter four years. J3ut the cup of Turkish iniquity ws filling. he pitiless shghter of Ißulgaains and Armenians alike was more thhan even the European Iowers coull stand, W'ith varied mmotives, llussia sent her armies to fight their way to the wnlls of Constantiuople, and Klrimmian found himself summoned to plend his people's cause before thc Congress of llorlin, hough he speaks no lnnguage but AArumenian and Turkish, he visitel all the great courts of Europe heforchand, urging them to crcnte an auutonomous nettral stnte for Armenia, as they hnd done with succcss for the I.chnnon, Iu ,ondon he became acquainted with 4ldstone ; lt Gladstonc was then only the blnzing firebrand which had kindlel the heart of EEngland, and, in the Congress itsel( K hrimiin coull gain nothing for his people beyond thhe promi-es ot Article 61, pledging the Iowers, and especially Englnnd, to hhold the Kurds in clcck nnd enforco Turkcy's definite reforms, It i necdless to say that none of these promises and pledges were olserved. Benconsfiell rettrned to IAondon nmid shots of '' Ieace with Honor,'' and Armenia was left to stew. So it went on, Detaiued in Constantinoplc ns prisoner, banished to Jerusalem for rebellion, and finally chosen Katholilos, or head of his Church and racc, by his own pcople, he mmnintnincd the hopelcss contest. Year by year thhe woe increased, till ly the lnst incalculnlile crime (1804-1896), the Artmenians were slnughtered like sheep from the lBosporus to Iinke |
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| 32 Van, and the lowest estimate counted the murdered dead at 100,000. Gladstone made the last great speech of his heroic life. England attempted some kind of protest. But rather than join the Liberal demand for action, Lord Rosebery left his party for private leisure, and Russia, France, and Germany combined to secure immunity for the “great assassin.” It was the lowest point of Europe’s shame. Blow followed blow. Hardly had the remnant of the Armenian people escaped from massacre when their Church fell under the brutal domination of Russia. Plehve ordained its destruction, and Golitzin was sent to Tiflis as governor-general to carry it out. Church property to the value of £6,000,000 was seized by violence, the Katholikos resolutely refusing to give up the keys of the safe where the title deeds were kept (June, 1903). For two years the Russian officials played with the revenues, retaining eighty per cent. for their own advantage. But in the mean time assassination had rid the earth of Plehve, and the overwhelming defeats of Russia in Manchuria were attributed to the Armenian curse. Grudgingly the Church property was restored, in utter chaos, and for the moment it is Russia’s policy to favor the Armenians as a balance against the Georgians, whom the St. Petersburg government is now determined to destroy. Such was the past upon which the worn old man, stretched on his monastic bed, looked back that winter’s morning. Singleness of aim has its reward in spiritual peace, but of the future he was not hopeful. He no longer even contemplated an autonomous Armenia, either on Turkish territory or on Russian. On the Russian side of the frontier the Armenian villages were too scattered, too much interspersed with Georgians and Tartars, to allow of autonomy. On the Turkish side, he thought, massacre and exile had now left too few of the race to form any kind of community. Indeed, for the last twelve years the Armenian villagers have been crawling over the foot of Ararat by thousands a year to escape the Kurds, and every morning they come and stand in fresh groups of pink and blue rags outside the monastery door where the head of their Church and race lies dying. They stand there in mute appeal, as I saw them, possessing nothing in the world but the variegated tatters that cover them, and their faith in their Katholikos. Slowly they are drafted away into Tiflis, Baku, or their Caucasian villages, but nowhere are they welcomed. Some of the bishops and monks, who form a council round their chief, still look for Europe’s interference, and trust that the solemn pledges taken by England and other Powers at Berlin may be fulfilled. The Bishop of Erivan, for instance, still labors for the appointment of a Christian governor over the district marked by the ill-omened names of Van, Bitlis, and Erzeroum. I also found that even among the Georgians there was a large party willing to concede all the frontier district from Erivan to Kars, where Armenian villages are thickest, as an autonomous Armenian province, in the happy day when the Caucasus wins federal autonomy. But the majority of the Armenian clergy, who hitherto have led the people, are beginning to acquiesce in the hopelessness of political change, and are now limiting their efforts to education and industries. One cannot yet say how far their influence may be surpassed in the growing revolutionary parties of “The Bell” and “The Flag.” Of these, the Social Democratic “Bell” follows the usual impracticable and pedantic creed of St. Marx. The “Flag,” or party of Nationalist Democrats, is at present dominant, and at a great assembly held in Erivan last August (1906) they adopted a programme of land nationalization, universal suffrage and education, an eight-hour day, and the control of the Church property by elected laymen. If the Russian revolution makes good progress, they will naturally unite with the Georgian Federalists, on whom the best hopes of the country are set. Whatever may be the political future of the Armenians, they seem likely to survive for many generations yet as a race, held together by language and religion. Except the Jews, there is, I think, no parallel to such a survival. It is a thousand years since they could be | o ) Ou v an, and the lowest cstimate counted the murdered dead at 10),000. GGhndstone mada the last great speech of hi heroie life. Englnnd attemptcd some kind of protest. But rnther than jin the Liberal demmand for nction, Lnrd 1oselery left lis pnrty for .private leisure, and Iussia, Francc, und Germany combined to secure immmunity for the '' gret assassin. .t o T w:us the lowest point of l2urope's shame. Blow followcd 1low. IInrdly hnd the remnnnt of the Armenin pemple escaped from massacre wlen thheir Cnrch fell under the orutal domination of llussia, Plehye ordaincd its destruction, and Golitzin was sent to Tiflis as governor-general to cnrry it out. Church property to the value of LU,000,000 wts seized by violence, the Kntholikos resolutely refusing to give up the keys of the safe wlere the title deeds were lept (June, 1003). For twwo years thhe Iussian ofhicinls playcd with the revenues, rctaining cighty per cent. for their owan ndvantage. 1ßut in the mean time assassination had ril the earthh of Plehye, and the over- wlelming defeats of Kussin in MInnchuria were nttrihutel to the .\rmeninn curse. Grudgingly the Chmeh property wns restored, in ntter chacs, and for the momment it is Iussin's policy to favor thie AArmenins as n balance against thhe ieorginns, whom thc St, Pctersbnrg government is now determincd to destroy. Such was the pnst upon which thc worn old man, stretched on his monastic bed, looledd back that winter's morning. Singleness of aim has its reward in spiritaal peace, bnt of thhe future he was not hopeful. Ile no longer even conte:uplatcd nn autonomous AArmenia, either on Turlish territory or on Russin, On the Ilussian side of the frontier the Armcnian villges were tuo scattered, too mucl interspersed with ieorgians nnd Tnrtars, to allow of nutonomy, Un thc Turlishh side, he thonght, nassacre and esile lad now left too few of the race to form any kind of community, Indeed, for thie lnst twelve yenrs the A rmeniamn villagers have been crawling over the foot of Ararat by thousands a ycar to escnpe the Kurds, nnd every morning they come nd stnud in fresh groups of pink nnd blue rags outside the monastery door wlere the hend of their Church nnd race lics dying. They stand there i mute appeal, ns I s.uw them, pussessing nothing in the world but the variegated tatters that cover them, and their fiithh in their Katholikos, Slowly they are drnfted nwny into aflds, lßalu, or their Cnucasinn villages, hut nowhere nre they welcommed. tp SSome of the bislnps and monls, who form a council ronnd their elief, still look for uurope's interference, and trust that the solemn pledges taken by Englund and other Powers at Berlin may le fulfilled. uhe lßishhop of Erivan, for instance, still lnbbors for the appoint- amment of n Christinn governor over the district mmukel y the ill-omened umes of Vnn, Bitlis, nnd Erzeroum, I also found thnt even among thhe Georgians there wus a lnrge party willing to concede all the frontier district from lErivan to Kars, where Ahrmeninn villngcs nre thickest, as an autonomous AArmenin province, in the hapnv day when the Cnncasus wius federal nutonomy, But thhe majority of the Armenian clergy, who hitherto have led the people, are begiuniing to acquiesce in the hopelcssness of political chnngc, and arc now limiting their efforts to education nnd industries, One cnnnot yet sny how fir their inflneuce may be aurpassed in the growing revolutionary prties of '*The ell'' nnd ''The FIng.'' Of these, the Socinl Democratic '' 1Bell '' f5llows the usual impractieable and pedantie creod of St, MInnrs, Ihe ''Flng,'' or pnrty off Nntionulist l)emocrats, is at present dominant, and at a grcat assemmbly held in Erivan lnst Mugust (1906) they adopted a programme of land nationalization, uuniversal suflrage and cducation, an cighht-hour day, and the control of the Church property by electcd laymen, Ifthe Ilussinn revolution makes good progress, they will nnturally unite with thhe Georgian Federalists, on whiom the best hopes of the couutry are set. w\ hntever may be thc political fature of thne hrmenians, they seen: likely to survive for uany generations yet as a race, hhell togeter by langunge and religion, Except the Jews, there is, I think, no parallel to such a survival. .w is a thhousand years siuce they could he |
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| 33 called a powerful nation. For almost as long they have possessed no independent country of their own. For six hundred years their ancient capital city of Ani has stood a splendid but empty ruin in the desert between Kars and the great mountain of Alagöz, which confronts Ararat, with nearly equal height. They have been rent asunder and tormented by Persians, Turks, Tartars, and Russians in turn. Even their religion is not nationalistic or distinctly separate from other forms of religion, like the Jewish. Except for metaphysical shades of difference, hardly comprehensible to the modern world, there is little to distinguish it from the orthodox Christianity of the Near East. Yet, through innumerable disasters and attempts at extermination, the race persists, like the Jews, with astonishing vitality, unmistakable in characteristics which may not be exactly heroic, but lead to a certain material success. After all, it is only in harassed and persecuted nationalities that true patriotism ever survives. MATTHEVOSE EZMERLIAN. Catholicos and Supreme Patriarch of Etchmiatzin. A man of high character and great ability, also a distinguished linguist. As Patriarch of Constantinople he was familiarly known as the “Iron Patriarch.” Banished by the Hamidian Government, he returned from exile in 1908 and was shortly after elected Catholicos of Etchmiatzin. The Armenian Catholicos is not infallible like the Pope. He is elected by the nation, but his appointment is subject to the sanction of the Czar. | 454F eOO elled a powerfl nntion, For luost as lmg they bave po-essed 1o independent country of thheir own, For sis hundred yenrs thieir ancient capital eity of .Yni has stood a splendid ut empty ruiu in the desert etween Knrs nnd the great 1mountain of Alngiiz, whi-h eonfronts Ararat, with nearly equal leighit. hey have been rent nsnnder nnd tormentcd hsy I'ersinns, rp rpy . rp, uurks, artnrs, and Iussians in turn, lEyen their religion is not natiunalisti or di-tinctly reprnte fiom other frms of relgion, lile the Jewi-l. Kseept fn metaphysi-al shades uf ditlerence, hnrdly comprehhensible to the modern world, there i, littl to distingui-! it from the orthhodos Christinnity of the Near lLast. a ., dirough innummeralle disasters and attempts gt i+ +h at estermination, the race persists, like tho Jews, with nstonishing vitality, unmistaknlle in characteristis wlich may not e esnctly lieroic, but lead to a certuin mmaterinl success. After all, 1t is only in harnssed and persecuted nationnlities thiat true patriti-mm ever survives, /.-. N, uA > z A- *.- N . + @8gL'y +C7s W4a . t7 .N o SGGW4S%, .- ; . 6.r;n * A e- .s ---- s3; A s + . w ' -: ,e eL- y,- -2 t2E w , e uA e, ' .. t 4-' ,Af - wS- 8' G?-: . -Y .s - +8.4 - 8, A5 f,*9a4 rA, b . : , 3 A@ e. ' MATTHEVOSE EaxEiLAN. r Ctholicos nnd Supreme uatrinrel ot T). IEtehmintzin, A man of ligl character nnd great alility, ulso n distinguished linguist. ' g'S- e a*sS4-^''. -. :' \& 3,Pt -- -'-A ,s3,4 -- S=, . a4%$\&4. 3 s >yE%. . v > 4 t '^ %RgS' . : ' z ' ?2-4y.. >Ms . E% 4M' - g. > 4=E. 4)A5 4 ar- * 4 : - w =24\&72, 4 - ,^. KHA% , P. ''4A9E>=AS' aausw- esd 7> -z.4Y= N =A52 . G e*. 'x. N\ Ati A:iNs, - .s Ihtrinrel of Constantinople hie was fami- x 1 liarly known as the''Iron 'atriarch, danished y tho IInmidinn Giuyernment, le returned from exile in 1908 nnd wus shortly nfter elected Cnthholicos of Etehmiatzin. rp he AArmenian Cntholicos is 1ot infilliblo like the 1'ope. He is elected by thc nntion, lut his apnointiment is sulject to the sanctivn of the Czar, |
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| 34 THE ARMENIAN MASSACRES AND THE ARMENIAN PEOPLE. During a period extending over thirty years the civilized world has heard of Turkish Massacres of Armenians. Massacres of a nature so ferocious and diabolical, so hideous and revolting, that no pen could adequately describe their horrors. Writing in 1896, Mr. James Bryce, in his supplementary chapter to the 4th edition of his book “Transcaucasia and Ararat” makes the following grave comment:— “Twenty years is a short space in the life of a nation. But these twenty years have been filled with sufferings for the Armenian Christians greater than their ancestors had to endure during the eight centuries that have passed since the first Turkish Conquest of Armenia. They have been years of misery, slaughter, martyrdom, agony, despair.” And the years that have followed from 1896 to 1909 have had the same tale of woe to unfold; a tale of horrors such as have never been surpassed in the history of nations. The opinion of the Turkish Pasha, “The way to get rid of the Armenian Question, is to get rid of the Armenians” was followed by “le Sultan Rouge,” and that the monster and assassin who sat on the Turkish throne from 1876 to 1909 was not able to accomplish this policy to the bitter end of complete extermination, was no doubt due to the grit and stubborn endurance of the victims. A Turkish writer has made the remark, “There are Armenians, but there is no Armenia.” This assertion would be true if meant in a political sense only, for of all civilized races on earth, Armenians are politically one of the most forlorn, but the country has not been wiped off the map. It still occupies the geographical place it has held since history has been written. The land of the Euphrates and Tigris, that Araxes valley, where, as simple and primitive Armenians will to this day assert in unshaken belief, God made man in His own image, and the country round the base of Ararat, where the generations of men once more began to people the earth. Once the land of Ararat was an independent kingdom until the tide of victory rolled over it and conquered its independence. Hemmed round by three Great Empires, Russian, Turkish and Persian, the unfortunate geographical position of the country became the cause of its people’s ruin. It is of bitter interest to Armenians to know that Ararat is the point where the three Empires, Russian, Turkish and Persian, meet, whilst the | E++- A1Nu-cdA.s MIASSACRES AND H1E . IT ARMENIAN PEOPLE. During a period extending over thirty years the civilized world has heard of Turlish NIassacres of Armenians, Miassacres of a nature so ferocious and diabolical, so ideous and revolting, that no pen could adequate- ly describe their horrors WWWriting in 18g6, MIr. ames ryce, ix his supplementary chapter to the 4th edition of his bool '' Transcaucasia and Ararat'' makes the following grave comment :- - Twenty years is a short space in the life of a nation, But these twenty years have been filled with sufferings for the Armenian Christians greater than their ancestors had to endure during the eight centuries that have passed since the first Turkish Conquest of Armenia, ihhey have been years of misery, slaughter, martyrdom, agony, despair,'' And the years that have followed from 1S66 to 1gog have had the sam)e tale of woe to unfold ; a tale of horrors suchh as have never ibeen sur- passed in the history of nations, Ihe opinion of the Turlish Pasha, ''The way to get rid of the Armenian Question, is to get rid of the Armenians'' was followed by ''le Sultan Rouge,'' and that the monster and assassin who sat on the Turkish throne from 1S76 to 1gog was not able to accomplish this policy to the bitter end of complete extermination, was no doubt due to the grit and stubborn endurance of the victim1s, A Turlish writer has made the remark,- Ihere are Armenians, but there is no Armenia,'' This assertion would be true if meant in a political sense only, for of all civilized races on earth, Armenians are politically one of the most forlorn, but the country has not been wiped off the mmap. It still occupies the geographical place it has held since history has been written, The land of the Euphrates and Tigris, that Araxes valley, where, as simple and primitive Armxenians will to this day assert in unshaken belief, God made man in His own image, and the country round the base of Ararat, where the generations of men once more began to people the earth. Once the land of Ararat was an independent kingdom until the tide of victory rolled over it and conquered its independence. Hemmmed round by three Great Empires, Russian, Turhish and Persian, the unfortunate geo- graphical position of the country became the cause of its people's ruin. It is of bitter interest to Armenians to know that Ararat is the point where the three Empires, Russian,. Turkish nnd Persian, meet, whilst the |
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| 40 two, the wall of iron that rises between them is the position of woman. The Armenian has accepted whole-heartedly the position in which woman has been placed by the Great Founder of his faith. For seventeen hundred years unremittingly since Christianity was revived in Armenia by Gregory the Illuminator, the Christian law with regard to the position of woman has moulded the thought of the nation, it has left its impress on the nation, and it is this vital and essential difference between the law of Mahommed and the law of Christ that like a two-edged sword has cleaved apart Christian Armenian from Moslem Turk and Persian. If “East is East, and West is West” it is on account of the social plane on which woman stands, a social plane that is never so degraded in any corner of Asia, as it is in the countries where the law of Mahommed governs. The Armenians in Asiatic Turkey are scattered and dispersed among Turks and other antagonistic races; they are without any military force or organization to wrest autonomy from the military and governing power. That Europe should aid their endeavours, or that Turkey should make them a free gift of autonomy, are both of them absolutely out of the question. Then what remains for us? To hold to our own nationality and to be subject—Subject to Russia, subject to Turkey, subject to Persia—What shall it profit us? What will it profit? What doth it profit us? Our strong, clever, energetic men, our beautiful, intelligent women, when neither chance nor opportunity can enable our finest and best to reach the higher rungs of the world’s ladder, and when as a subject people we must ever remain hewers of wood and drawers of water, even our Aivasowskis and our Melikoffs have been known to the world as Russians, not as Armenians. Have we a chance of bursting the fetters? Have we strength to break the chains? Can we reach the goal toward which, bleeding and torn, we have been striving, and still are striving? These are questions which we must ask ourselves; looking them soberly in the face. But this is not enough: if we must persist in holding to our nationality, we must look into ourselves, we must search out and probe our national failings and our national weaknesses, and find out in what essential characteristics we are wanting as a nation, and so build up national character. Let us weigh ourselves in the balance, and supply what in us is found wanting. In the period of less than a decade a Great Power has risen in the Orient. The people of a small island empire with an empty Treasury have beaten successfully and disastrously a colossal empire of whom the Powers of Europe had stood in awe, and against whom not one had ventured single-handed to engage. | two, the wall of iron that rises between them is the position of womman, The Armenian has accepted whole-hheartedly the position in whhich woman has been placed by the Great Founder of his faith. For seventeen hhundred years unremittingly since Christianity was revived in Armenia by Gregory the Illuminator, the Christian law with regard to thhe position of womman hias moulded the thought of the nation, it has left its impress on the nation, and it is this vital and essential difference between the lnw of MIahommed and the law of Christ that like a two-edged sword has cleaved apart Christian Armenian fromy Moslem Turk and Persian, I( East is East, and West is West'' it is on account of the social plane on which woman stands, a social plane that is never so degraded in any corner of Asia, as it is in the countries where the law of MIahommed governs, The Armenians in Asiatic Turkey are scattered and dispersed among Turks and other antagonistic races ; they are without any military force or organization to wrest autonomy from the military and governing power, That Europe should aid their endeavours, or that Turkey should male them a free gift of autonomy, are both of themy absolutely out of the question. Then what remains for us? T'o hold to our own nationality and to be subject-Subject to Russia, subject to Turkey, subject to Persia--What shall it profit us? WWhat will it profit? 'hat doth it profit us? Our strong, clever, energetic men, our beautiful, intelligent womxen, when neithher chance nor opportunity can enable our finest and best to reach the higher rungs of the world's ladder, and wlen as a subject people we must ever remain hewers of wood and drawers of water, even our Aivasowslis and our MIelilofia have been l:nown to the world as Russians, not as Armenians, Have we a chance of bursting the fetters? Hnve we strength to break the chains? Can we reach the goal toward which, bleeding and torn, we have been striving, and still are striving! ihese are questions which we must asl ourselves ; lookiag them soberly in the iace. But this is not enough: if we myust persist in holding to our our national- ity, we must lool into ourselves, we must search out and probe our nationai failings and our national weaknesses, and find out in what essential character- istics we are wanting as a nation, and so build up national character, Let us weigh ourselyes in the balance, and supply whlat in us is found wanting. In the period of less than a decade a Great P'ower has risen in the Orient, The people of a small island empire with an empty Treasury have beaten successfully and disastrously a colossal empire of whom the Fowers of Europe had stood iin awe, and against whomm not one had ventured single- handed to engag%- |
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| 41 On the field the ever victorious army of little Japan undermined Russia’s stronghold, and succeeded in driving back and ever driving back the ever defeated and ever retreating army of colossal Russia. At sea the ever victorious Japanese Fleet succeeded in completely annihilating the Russian Fleet. It was war such as the world had never yet seen. The secret of such astounding successes should be investigated, and here I beg leave to quote from one of a series of articles in which I gave view to my opinions during the Russo-Japanese War. “Japan may be likened to the bundle of faggots in the fable firmly tied together; one faggot of larger dimensions in the centre, the sovereign round whom the whole nation clusters, and all, ruler and people tied together by adamantine bands of patriotism.” These remarks of mine were based on observations of actual facts. In national unity Japan stands as an object lesson to the world; she furnishes an example which the world needs to copy, and which a nation so politically forlorn as ourselves more than any other needs to copy. From the astounding success of Japan let us turn to the position the Great Republic of the United States of America occupies in the world, and take the lesson to heart of what Union can accomplish as we contrast their present position with the position that the handful of puritan pilgrims occupied when they first landed on American soil not quite three hundred years ago. National Unity is our greatest need; it is the banner which we must raise up over our national life. National Unity must be engraven on the tablets of our minds and throb in the pulses of our hearts. There are mountains of difficulties before us, and if ever we must reach the goal we can only do so by being bound together like the bundle of faggots in the fable, with no weakening or loosening of the bands. Then perhaps we might once more be able to get an independent footing on the historical soil of our fathers, and perhaps once more rally round our own flag. A Japanese lives for the State, not for himself; we have no State for which to live, but let us live for our communities whilst we keep the hope in our hearts that communities grow into States. We have grit and endurance in an unparalleled degree, but these characteristics will profit us nothing if we are wanting in unity. Let us remember that utterance of the Founder of our faith. In our loyalty and allegiance to Him our life-blood has flowed like the torrents of a cataract, but we must remember His warning utterance:— “What shall it profit a man.” What shall it profit a nation. Unity is the soul of a nation. Let us keep our soul and not lose it. | On the field the ever victorious army of little Jagan undermined Russia's stronghold, and succeeded in driving back and ever driving back the ever defeated and ever retreating amy of colossal Russia. At sea the ever victorious apanese 1leet succeeded in completely annihilating the Russian Fleet. It was war such as the world had never yet seen, The secret of such astounding successes should be investigated, and here I beg leave to quote from one of a series of articles in which I gave view to my opinions during thc Russo-]apanese War, '' [apan may be likened to the bundle of faggots in the fble firmyly tied together ; one faggot of larger dimensions in the centre, the sovereign round whom the whole nation clusters, and all, ruler and people tied together by adamantine bands oi patriotism,' These remarks of mine were based on observations of actual facts. In national unity fapan stands as an object lesson to the world ; she furnishes an esample which the world needs to copy, and which a nation so politically forlorn as ourselves more than any other needs to copy. From the astounding success of lapan let us turn to the position the Great Republic of the United States of America occupies in the world, and take the lesson to heart of what Union can accomplish as we contrast their present position with the position that the handful of puritan pilgrims occupied when they first landed on American soil not quite three hundred years ago. National Unity is our greatest need ; it is the banner which we must raise up over our national life. National Unity myust be engraven on the tablets of our minds and throb in the pulses of our hearts, There are mvountains of difficulties beforc us, and if ever we mmust reach the goal we can only do so by being bound together like the bundle of faggots in the fable, with no weakening or loosening of the bands, Then perhaps we might once more be able to get an independent footing on the historical soil of our fathers, and perhaps once mmore rally round our own flag. A [apan- ese lives for the State, not for himyself: we have no State for which to live, but let us live for our commyunities whilst we keep the hope in our hearts that communities grow into States, WVe have grit and endurance in an unparalleled degree, but these characteristics wiil profit us nothing if we are wanting in unity LLet us remember that utterance of the Founder of our faith. In or loyalty and allegiance to Him our life-blood hhas flowed lile the torrents of a cataract, but we must remember His warning utterance :-- 't What shall it profit a man.'' WWWhat shall it profit a nation. Unity is the soul of a nation. Let us keep our soul and not lose it. |
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| 42 THE ARMENIAN MASSACRES AND CIVILIZED EUROPE. “Hear then ye Senates! hear this truth sublime, They who allow Oppression share the crime.” “A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rahel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not.” In the twentieth century of the christian era, in the age of trumpeted progress, of boasted and vaunted civilization, there is a Ramah of countries, a desolated Ramah, blackened and calcined with the fires of oppression, and over her desolated wastes there flows, flows, continually flows, ever replenished and ever renewed, that red stream which crieth up from the earth to God: and out of this modern Ramah, a voice is heard of lamentation and bitter weeping, it riseth up in its boundless anguish to reach the heavens, it crieth out and will not be stopped, for it is the voice of the Rahel of nations weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are not. Ah! thou Rahel of nations! to the cry of thy boundless anguish, to thy lamentation and bitter weeping, Christendom and Civilization, the Christendom and Civilization of Europe have replied “Are we thy children’s keepers?” Who that has read the history of the Crusades has not turned with sickening disgust from the chapters wherein history has recorded the savage barbarities and fearful excesses of those christian warriors, who went to Palestine ostensibly fired with the enthusiasm of a holy cause, but in reality only to glut in slaughter and gratify brutal passions. Europe has, however, designated her past as the “dark ages” into which she has thrust back, the ferocious outbursts of religion, the merciless persecutions of the church, the savage sweep of the barbarians of the north, and the unbridled tyrannies of despotic power, from all which she loudly boasts to have emancipated herself, and like the evolution according to the Darwinian theory of the anthropomorphal ape, to have progressed into the state of civilization. But beginning from the last quarter of the nineteenth and on into the first decade of the twentieth century, the horrors of the darkest ages in human history have lain at her doors, and towards these horrors Europe has kept up the role of an extenuatingly disclaiming, a mildly rebuking, sweetly frowning, smilingly denouncing, Disapprover. Half a million Armenians annihilated by organized massacres of the most ferocious and hideous natures, and perhaps a corresponding number | +\<- ARMENIAN MILASSACRES AND - o\<-w) p-: r T 7 TTnY T tr rOPE. '' Hear then ye Senates ! hear this truth sublime, They who allow Oppression share the crime,'' ''A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping ; Rahel weeping for her children refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not,'' In the twentieth1 century of the christian era, in the age of trumpeted progress, of boasted and vaunted civilization, there is a Ramah of countries, a desolated Ramah, blackened and calcined with the fires of oppression, and over her desolated wastes there flows, flows, continually flows, ever re- plenished and ever renewed, that red stream which crieth up from1 the earth to God: and out of this modern Ramah, a voice is heard of lamentation and bitter weeping, it riseth up in its boundless anguish to reach thie heavens, it crieth out and will not be stopped, for it is the voice of the Rahel of nations weeping ior her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are not. Ah 1 thou Rahel of nations ! to the cry of thy boundless anguish, to thy lamentation and bitter weeping, Christendom and Civilization, the Christen- dom and Civilization of Europe have replied '' Are we thy children's keepers? '' Who that has read the history of the Crusades has not turned with sickening disgust from the chapters wherein history has recorded the savage barbarities and fearful excesses of those christian warriors, who went to Palestine ostensibly fired with the enthusiasm of a holy cause, but in reality only to glut in slaughter and gratify brutal passions, Europe has, however, designated her past as the '' dark ages '' into which she has thrust back, the ferocious outbursts of religion, the merciless persecutions of the church, the savage sweep of the barbarians of the north, and the unbridled tyrannies of despotic power, from all which she loudly boasts to have emancipated herself, and like the evolution according to the Darwinian theory of the anthro- pomorphal ape, to have progressed into the state of civilization, But beginning from the last quarter of the nineteenth and on into the first decade of the twentieth century, the horrors of the darkest ages in human history have lain at her doors, and towards these horrors Europe has kept up the role of an extenuatingly disclaiming, a mildlyy rebuking sweetly frowning, smilingly denouncing, lDisapprover. Hnlf a million Armenians annihilated by organized massacres of the most ferocious and hideous natures, and perhaps a corresponding number |
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| 46 Thus it became the fate of the unfortunate Armenians to be the bruised and mangled shuttle-cock of powerful bats. Much has been written and much has been said by great authorities, (far more comprehensively and by pens much more forcible than my humble efforts could aspire to reach) against the selfishness and callousness, the inhumanity and cynicism of those great powers which have coldly looked on and permitted the hellish atrocities and horrors of the Armenian Massacres. The name of William Ewart Gladstone is loved and revered by Armenians all over the world; but the thunderings of that veteran statesman and the denouncing protests of those thoughtful men whose feelings of revolted humanity have made themselves heard in sounding language, have fallen on stony ground; they have been like the voices of men crying out in the wilderness. Europe has turned a deaf ear to the condemnations of justice and truth, even as she has turned a deaf ear to the voice of Rahel weeping for her slaughtered children. The victim of Abdul Hamid’s revenge who was stealthily murdered in his bed. He was elected Patriarch in 1843 and held the highest place in the esteem and affection of his people. Mr. James Bryce gives his age at the time of his election in 1843 as seventy-three; if this is correct then he was over a hundred years old when he was foully murdered. Mr. Bryce writes of him as, “the worthy leader of his nation,” “a man of high character and great ability.” A writer signing himself Beyzadé gives the following account of the Patriarch’s tragic death in the July number of “The Wide World:” The attempted poisoning and subsequent death of Monseigneur Nercès Varjabétian, the Armenian Patriarch and Archbishop of Constantinople, was a revolting illustration of the inhuman and barbarous tactics of the Yildiz Kiosk “Camarilla.” Monseigneur Nercès Varjabétian was not only one of the most prominent prelates of the Armenian NERSES VARJABETIAN. (Armenian Patriarch of Constantinople). | 46 Thus it became the fate of the unfortunate Armenians to be the bruised and mangled shuttle-cock of powerful bats, NIuch has been written and much has been said by great authorities, (far more comprehensively an.l by pens much more forcible than my hummble efforts could aspire to reach) against the selfishness and callousness, the inhumanity and cynicism of those great powers which have coldly looled on and permitted the hhellish atrocities and horrors of the Armenian Massacres, Ihe name of WVilliam Ewart Gladstone is loved and revered by Armenians all over the world ; but the thunderings of that veteran statesman and the denouncing protests of those though:ful men whose feelings of revolted humanity have made themyselves heard in sounding language, have fallen on stony ground; they have been lile the voices of men crying out in the wilder- ness, Europe has turned a deaf ear to the condemynations of justice and truthn, even as she has turned a deaf ear to the voice of Ralel weeping for her slaughtered children, 8 4 - -7 e '. '' ,: -,/- , ( . s . NERSES VARJABETIAN (Armuenian Patriarch of Constantinople). TIe victim of Abdul Hamid's revenge who was stealthily murdered in hhis bed. He was elected Patriarch in 1843 and held the highest place i: the esteem and affection of his people. NIr, ames Bryce gives his age at thhe time of his election in 1S43 as seventy-three ; ii this is correct then he was over a hundred years old when he was foully murdered. MIr, Bryce writes of him as, '' tie worthy leader of his nation,'' '' a man of high character and great ability,'' A writer signing himseli Beyzade gives the following account of the Patriarch's tragic death in the fuly number of ': The Wide World:'' The nttempted poisoning and subsequent deatl1 of MIonseigneur Nerc\&s Vnarjabetian, the Armenian I'ntriarch and Archbislop of Constantinople, was n rcvolting illustration of the inluman and barlmrous tactics of the YIld1z Kiol '' Cnmarilla,'' Monseigneur Nerc2s V nrjbetinn wns not only one of the amost prominent prelntes of the Armenian |
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| 47 Church, but was also a fearless patriot—a distinguished linguist, an eloquent preacher, and a thorough gentleman in every sense of the word. When peace was concluded between Turkey and Russia, and preparations were being made for the Berlin Congress, it was he who, in spite of the feared fanatical uprising of the Turks, threw prudence to the winds and took a step that will long be remembered in the annals of Armenian history. At the first meeting of the Berlin Congress the Turkish delegates were thunderstruck to learn from official sources that an Armenian delegation had arrived from Constantinople, sent by Monseigneur Nercès, the Patriarch, their object being to request the signatory Powers of the Berlin Treaty to force a guarantee from the Turkish Government to make certain important improvements in Armenia. Abdul Hamid and his advisers were furious at this affront, and Monseigneur Nercès was summoned to the Palace. It is said that when he received the summons he simply smiled and asked one of his curates to read the Burial Service to him, as he did not expect to return alive. However, he went. No one has ever heard what passed between the Sultan and himself at the interview; suffice it to say that he immediately summoned the Armenian General Assembly and tendered his resignation. This was not accepted by the Assembly, and, amidst enthusiastic cheers, he was carried back to his apartments at the Patriarchate. Meanwhile a peremptory order reached him, signed by the Sultan, to recall the Armenian delegation from Berlin. This Monseigneur Varjabétian point-blank refused to do, and retired to his private residence at Haskeuy, a village on the Golden Horn. The success of the delegation, however, did not come up to his expectations. The Armenians, as it happened, could not be heard, but they were so far successful as to have an article inserted in the treaty. The Sultan and his advisers never forgave the Patriarch this, though they could not openly do anything to him on account of his enormous popularity. Time passed on, and to all appearance the incident was forgotten, but it was not so. One summer afternoon a most cordial invitation was sent by a very high dignitary of the Palace, requesting the Archbishop to dine with him informally. An invitation of this kind could not very well be refused, so the Archbishop, accompanied only by a body-servant named Vartan, repaired to the Pasha’s house. The Pasha received him at the door and escorted the visitor with much ceremony and extreme courtesy to a private apartment of the salamlik of his house (the men’s quarters), where dinner was served. The geniality displayed by his host dispelled any fears that the Archbishop might have had as to his personal safety. After dinner, as usual, coffee was served. Now, this serving of the coffee is rather a ceremonial according to high Turkish etiquette, and it is not unusual for guests to bring their own tchooboukdar (the servant who carries his master’s pipe and pouch and also superintends the making of his coffee). The Archbishop was presented with a “tchoobouk” (pipe) filled and lighted for smoking, and a servant followed with coffee. The Archbishop accepted both with due compliments to his host, and took a sip at his coffee. Just at that moment the heavy curtains over the doorway were thrown apart, revealing the ghastly pale face of his servant Vartan, who cried, in Armenian, in a voice trembling with emotion, “Monseigneur, I did not brew the coffee!” This was enough for the Archbishop; he pretended to be startled and spilt the coffee, but, alas! he had already drunk a small quantity of it. Meanwhile a scuffle was going on behind the portière, where his poor servant Vartan was paying the penalty of his devotion to his master. Concerning Vartan’s whereabouts or his ultimate end nothing was ever made public—the poor fellow simply vanished. Monseigneur Varjabétian, after a short interval thanked the Pasha for his generous and kind hospitality and took his departure. On the way home he was taken violently ill and a doctor was hastily summoned. The Patriarch took to his bed, and lost all his hair through the effects of the poison. Then, one morning, when a servant | - 4 Church, hut wns also a fearlcss pntriot-n distinguishcd linguist, aan eloquent prencher, nd thhorough gentlemn in every sense of the word, when pence was concluded betwcen lurkey nnd Russin, and prepnrations were being made for the Berlin Cungress, it wns he who, in spitc of the feared fimnatical uprising of the Turks, threw prudence to the winds nnd tool a step thhat will long be remembbered in the annls of Armeninn history, At the first meetiing of the llerlin Congress the Turlish delegates were thunderstruck to iearn from official sources thnt an Armenian dclegation hnd nrriyed fiom Constantinople, sent y MIonseigncur Ncrc2s, the Pntriarch, their olject Ieing to request the signntory l'owers of the Berlin 1renty to force a gunrantee from the Turkish Government to mmnke certti1 important improvements in Armenin, Abblul IInmil and his ndvisers were furious nt this afront, and Nfonseigneur Nere2s was summoned to the Pnnlnce. It is snid that when he receivel thhe summions he simp)ly smiled nnd nsked one of of his curates to read the Buril Soryicc to himm, ns he did not expect to return alive. Howevcr, he went, No one has ever heard what passed between thie Snltnn nnd himself at the interview ; suffice it to say that he immelintely sumnoned the Armeninn rp General Asscmbly and tenderel his resignation, is wns not acceptel by the Assem)bly, and, amidst enthusiastic checrs, he wns carried back to his apnrtments nt thhe Ihntrinrehnte, MIcanwhilc a peremptory order reachel him, signed Iy the Sultnn, to recall the Armenin delegation from Hcrlin, This MIonseigneur Vnrjbetian point-blank refased to do, and rctirel to his private residence nt Haskeuy, villnge on thhc Golden Horn, 'lhe succcss of the dele- gntion, howcyer, did not comme up to his expectntions, 1tie Armeninns, as it happened, could 1not be heard, hut they were so fnr successful ns to have an article inserted in the treaty, ahe Snltan and his advisers never forgave the Pntrinrch this, though thcy could not opcnly do nythiang to him on nccount of his cnormous popularity, 1ime pnssed on, nnd to nll appenrnce the incident wns forgottcn, but it was not so, Onc summer aftcrnoon a most cordial invitation was sent by a very higl dignitary of tho P:nlncc, requesting the A rchhishop to dine with hhim informnlly. An invitation of this lind coull not very well be refusel, so the A)rehlishop, accomipanied only hy a boly-servant named Vartnnn, rcpaircd to tho P'nsln's Iiouse. Uhe Pasha received him nt the door and escorted the yisitor with mauch ceremmony und extreme courtesy to a private npartment of the salumlilt of his hotuse (the men's quarters), wlcre diuner was served. he geniality dis;played ly his host dispcllcd any fenrs that thc A rcllishop might have had as to his pcrsonal safety, After dinner, as usual, coflec wns served, Now, thhis serying of the coflee is rather a ceremonial acc5rding to high Turlish etiquette, and it is not unnsal for guests to bring their own tehooboukidar (the scrvant who caries lis master's pipe andd pouch nnd nlso superintends the making of his coflec). The Archlislop was presentel with a '' tchoobouk (pipe) fillel nnd lighted for smoking, and n servant followed with coflce. he Archlishop nceepted both with dne com)pliments to his host, and tool a sip at his coffee, .ust nt thiat moment the lenvy curtnins over the doorway were thrown npart, revenling the ghnstly ple fce of his servant Vnrtan, wlo cried, in Armmeninn, in n voice trcmlling with emoti a, ''Mfonseigueur, I did not brew the coflec!'' ahis was enough for thhe A rchlislop; he pretended to e stnrtlel and spilt the coflec, but, alas ! hc lnd alrcndy duml a small quantity of it, Neanwhile a scufllc was going on elind the porli2re, wlere his poor scrvant Vnrtan was paying thhe pennlty of his devotion to his amnaster, Concerning Vartaan's whiereahouts or his nltimnte end nothing was ever mnde public --the poor fellow sim)ply vanishel, NIonseigneur v nrjnbetinn, after n short interynl thanked tho Pishn for lis generous nnd kind hospitnlity and tool his depnrtnre, On the wny home he was tnken yiolently ill and n doctor wns hnstily summmoned. e I'ntrirch tool to hic cd, and lost all lis lair thirougl the eflects of the poison, Then, one morning, when servant |
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| 48 took his breakfast upstairs he found, to his horror, that both the bedroom door and the window were wide open and his beloved master lay dead in his bed, which was covered with blood! There are no such things as coroners and juries in Turkey to ascertain the causes of mysterious deaths of this kind, but the news that the Patriarch was dead spread like wildfire through Constantinople. The Sultan himself thought it advisable to show some concern in the matter, and aides-de-camp from the Palace were sent to the Patriarchate to learn the full details of this “sad catastrophe,” as they termed it. The official statement was that the Archbishop died of dysentery. Only a very few know how the Archbishop had died, and they wisely kept their mouths shut. I was told the details of this story by a high official of the Armenian Patriarchate. It seems that as the poison did not act as quickly as the Patriarch’s enemies had anticipated, owing to his having been cautioned in the nick of time, they “had to resort to other means”! The funeral was the largest ever witnessed in Constantinople, with an escort of Turkish cavalry sent specially by the Sultan, and representatives of all the religious denominations and the Diplomatic Corps. I was myself present, representing a foreign Government. | 4 took his hreakfast upstairs he fuund, tu his horror, thiat bothn the bedrooum door and the window were wide open and his beloved master lny dead in his bed, which was covered with hlood ! There nre no such things ns coroners and juries in Turkey tu ascertain the causes of mysterious deaths of thia kind, but the news that the Pntrinrch1 was dead spread lile wildfire through Uonstantinople. lhe Sultan hhimself thought it advisalle to show some conceru iu the matter, and niles-de-cnp from the Paalnce were sent to the Patriarchate to learn the fll detnil, of this ''sad catastrophe,'' ns thhey termed it. 'The ofhcinl statement was thhat the Archbishop died of dysentery, Ouly a very few kuow how the Archbishop hnd died, and they wisely kept their mouths shut. I was told thhe detnils of thhis story by a high othcinl of the Armenian Iatriarchate. It reems that as the poison did not act as quickly ns the Patriichh's enemies had auticipatel, owing to his having been cautimnel in the nicl of time, thhey '' had to resort to other mmeans ''! The funeral wns the lnrgest ever witnessed in Constantinople, with nn escort of Turkich cavalry sent specially by the Sultnn, and representntives of ull the religious denominations mnd tho Diplonatie t'orps, 1 was myself present, representing a foreign (iovernnent. |
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| PART II. OUT OF THE DEPTHS. “Oh that my head were waters and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of my people.” A book has been written and published in Japan, its title “Niku Dan” translated into English, reads, “Human Bullets.” This little book, a narrative of the siege of Port Arthur, after being read through the length and breadth of the empire, found translators to translate it into the best known of languages; and its young author, himself an actor in the siege, was summoned to the presence of his sovereign to be thanked and praised. The book is a graphic narrative of the most terrible siege in history, wherein is vividly portrayed the deadly struggle of the besiegers. It contains as an acknowledgement of its merit, a page on which is recorded the Field Marshal’s appreciation, and another page bearing the Commanding General’s commendation. In simple narrative the author carries the reader through appalling scenes of horror, and as we read we are made to realize the slaughter of the enemy’s machine guns, of their ground-mines, electric-wire entanglements, and exploding shells; we are made to hear the roar of the artillery fire dealing death and destruction, and there rises before us the mental vision of the fierce hand to hand conflict, and the dead and dying lying thickly in the dark ravine. “For hill and battle plain, With dying men and slain, Grew mountain heights of pain, And mine is boundless woe.” The grim warrior who stormed and took the most impregnable fortress in the world gives expression to his feelings on his own great achievement, in saddest words. “And mine is boundless woe,” For the grim warrior’s heart is cleft in twain for the human bullets that under his command hurled themselves to their death. | OUT P A . TO : OF THE T T 1 1. DEUTIIS. '' Oh that my head were waters and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I mighht weep day and night for the slain of oy people.' A book has been written and published in [apan, its title '' Niku Dnn '' translated into Engiish, reads, '' Human Bullets,'' 'This little book, a narrative of the siege of Port Arthur, after being read through the length and breadthn of the empire, found translators to translate it into the best lmnown of languages; and its young author, himself an actor in the siege, was summoned to the presence of his sovereign to be thanked and praised. 1he bool is a graphic narrative of the most terrible siegc i history, wherein is vividly portrayed the deadly struggle of the besiegers, It contains as an acknowledgement of its merit, a page on which is recorded the ield Marshals appreciation, and another page bearing the Commmmanding General's- commendation, In simple narrative thhe author carries the reader throug appalling scenes of horror, and as we read we are made to realize the slatughiter of the enemy's machine guns, of their ground-mines, electric-wire entangle- ments, and exploding shells ; we are made to hear thhe roar of the artillery fire dealing deati and destruction, and there rises before us the mental vision of the fierce hand to hand conflict, and the dead and dying lying thickly in the dark ravine. ' For hill and battle plain, With dying men and slain, Grew mountain heights of pain, And mine is boundless woe,' '1he grim warrior whno stormed and took the most impregnable fortress in the world gives expression to his feclings on hiis own great achievcment, in saddest words, ''And mine is boundless woe,'' For the grim warrior's heart is cleft in twain for the human bullets that under his command hurled themselves to thheir death. |
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| 54 Can the Armenians hope now for any change in their condition under Turkish rule? To this question, we must answer an emphatic No! The causes that must operate against any change are many and deep-seated. In the first place it cannot be expected that a few Turks of liberal ideas (or it may be French polished) at Constantinople, are going to change the thought and character of the nation. The characteristics of a people change very slowly, if they ever change at all, and the predominant national traits of the many-blooded modern Turk have been shown to the world to be, cruelty and fanaticism, combined with a fierce sensuality; and what is more than all, and which has to be remembered most, is, that they are a people accustomed to the unbridled gratification of their worst passions. The ethnographic traits of the Turkman which history bears out, are wildness and fierceness, and it would not be incorrect to argue that with the instincts of his primitive ancestors have been assimilated the many cross currents that run in his veins, into all of which has been infused the doctrines of the religion of the sword, a religion which does not make for the peace or well being of mankind; a religion, also, which assigning one of the two sexes to the degraded position of being created solely for the gross pleasure of the other, does not make for the exaltation of mankind. To quote again the eminent authority previously referred to: “No Mahommedan race or dynasty has ever shown itself able to govern well even subjects of its own religion, while to extend equal rights to subjects of a different creed is forbidden by the very law of its being.” Not the Jewish conceit proclaiming itself God’s elect and chosen, and originating the name “heathen” which it scorned. Not the Christian conceit emanating from the Jewish source, and laying the flattering unction to its soul of superiority over the “heathen” of its own time. Not the unbending caste exclusiveness of the Brahman across whose path even the shadow of the despised Sudra falling would be deemed defilement. Not any of these, can equal the intolerant religious pride of the Mahommedan, or reach the pinnacle of religious self-sufficiency on which he has seated himself. To be a Mahommedan, is enough—Cela suffit. To any one who has familiar acquaintance with Mahommedans, and intimate with Mahommedan thought, one fact must strike itself most forcibly, and that is, the Mahommedan is above all things a Mahommedan. His religion is the paramount question in his life, and remains its predominating feature above everything else. This should not be surprising, since to the “faithful” Paradise is secured, and all crimes and transgressions against “unbelievers” absolved. | 54 Can the Armenians hope now for any chiange in their condition uunder Turlish rule? To this question, we must answer an cmphatic No! The causes that must operate against any clange are many and deep- seated. In the first place it cannot be expected that a few Turls of liberal ideas (or it may be French polished) at Constantinople, are going to change the thoughht and chharacter of the nation, The characteristics of a people change very slowly, if they ever change at all, and the predominant national traits of the many-blooded modern Turk hhave been shown to the world to be, cruelty and fanaticism, conbined withh a fierce sensuality ; and wliat is more than all, and which has to be remembered most, is, that they are a people accustomed to the unbridled gratification of their worst passions, The ethnographhic traits of the Tarlman which history bears out, are wwildness and fierceness, and it would not be incorrcct to argue that with the instincts of his prim1itive ancestors have been assimilated the many cross currents that run in his veins, into all of which has been infscd the doctrines of the religion of the sword, a religion which does not make for the peace or well being of mankind ; a religion, also, which assigning one of the two scxes to the degraded position of being created solely for the gross pleasure of the other, does not make for the exaltation of mankind. o qquote again the eminent authority previously referred to : '' No NIahommedan race or dynasty has ever shown itself able to govern well even subjects of its own religion, while to extend equal righits to subjects of a different creed is forbidden by the very law of its being.'' Not the [ewish conceit proclaim)ing itseli God's elect and chosen, and originating the name ''heathen '' which it scorned, Not the Christian conceit emanating firom the [ewish source, and laying the flattering unction to its soul of superioity over the ''heathen '' of its own time. Not the unbending caste cxclusiveness of the Brahm)an across wlose path even the shadow of the despised Sudra falling would be deemed defilement. Not any of these, can equal the intolerant religious pride of the MIahommedan, or reach the pinnacle of religious selfsufficiency on whhich he has seated himself. To be a Mahommedan, is enough-Cela sit. To any one who has familiar acquaintance with Mahomymedans, and intimate with Mahommedan thought, one fact must strike itself most forcibly, and that is, the Malommedan is above all things a Mahommedan, His religion is the paramount question in his life, and remains its predominating feature above everything else. This should not be surprising, since to the '' faithful '' Pnradise is secured, and all crimes and transgressions against '' unbelievers '' absolved. |
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| Added to these important factors of racial characteristics, influences of religion, and long grown habits of the Turk, we have also in Turkish Armenia another evil, from which the other provinces of the Turkish Empire fortunately for themselves have been exempt; this super-added evil, is, the large neighbouring bodies of Kurds and Circassians, greater marauders and depredators than the Turks, the regular occupation of whose lives comprises murder and robbery, and who have through weary centuries unremittingly quartered themselves upon the industrious christian peasants, and lived on the fruits of their labour and toil. Indeed as the Hamidieh cavalry which was established expressly for the Hamidian massacres was composed of these Kurds, it ought to be matter of speculation what outlet these warriors, trained and practised in organized murder, can now find for those habits in which they were encouraged and trained to indulge by the Hamidian régime. Under all such conditions no hope of better days can be forthcoming, no prospect of better times seems possible, for that unhappy portion of the Armenian race whom force of circumstances keeps on the soil of the fatherland. The appointment of Christian governors over the provinces inhabited by them might ameliorate some of the evils, or the other alternative, of allowing the use of arms to all alike, irrespective of creed or nationality, would furnish some means of self-defence against the raids and barbarities of the oppressors; but even if such concessions were granted, life for the christian peasant subject to Turkish rule, and living in the midst of his enemies, must remain one long struggle and battle against pillage, murder, depredation, and offences of the worst nature. Not the most fertile soil, not the most favourable climatic conditions, not the most assiduous industry, not the most peace loving, law abiding instincts, can bring to the Armenian peasant under Turkish rule even a modicum of that comfort, happiness, and security of life and property, which the law of all civilized countries guarantees to the industrious labourer and tiller of the soil. | Added to these important factors of racial characteristics, influences of religion, and long grown habits of thc Turk, we have also in Turkish Armenia anothier evil, fromm which the other provinces of thhe Turkish Emmpire fortunately for themselves ave been exempt; this super-added evil, is, the large neigbouring bodies of Kurds and Circassians, greater marauders and depredators than the Turks, thhe regular occupation of whose lives comprises murder and robbery, and who have through weary centurics unremittinglyy quartered them)selves upon the industrious christian peasants, and lived on the fruits of their labour and toil, Indeed as the Hamidiel cavalry which was established expressly for the Hamidian massacres was composed of thhese Kurds, it ought to be matter of speculation what outlet these warriors, trained and practised in organized murder, can now find for hose habits i1 which they were encouraged and trained to indulge by the Hamidian regime. Under all such conditions no hope of better days can be forthcoming. no prospect of better timyes seems possible, for that unlappy portion of the Armyenian race whom1 force of circumstances kecps on the soil of the fatherland. The appointment of Christian governors over the provinces in- habited by them mmight ameliorate some of the evils, or the other alternative, of allowing the use of arms to all alike, irrespective of creed or nationality, would furnish som)e means of selfdefence against the raids and barbarities of the oppressors; but even if such concessions were granted, life for the christian peasant subject to Turkish rule, and living in the midst of his eneaies, must remain one long struggle and battle against pillage. murder, depredation, and offences of the worst nature, Not thie most fertile soil, not the most favourable climatic conditions, not the most assiduous industry, not thhe mmost peace loving, law abiding instincts, can bring to the A rmenian peasant under Turkish rule even a modicum of that comfort, happiness, and security of life and property, which the law of all civilized countries guarantees to the industrious labourer and tiller of the soil, |
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| 58 not let me be told that one nation has no authority over another� was his reply to the Armenian deputation which waited on him in 1894. Let his reply be your answer to us now, President of a mighty Republic; let it be your answer written in golden letters across the banner of that great civilization, of which you are the presiding head. The Republic of the United States of America has been compared to that grain of mustard seed, which when planted in the earth budded forth and grew into such dimensions that the birds of the air lodged under the branches thereof. I pray that the shadow of those branches be extended over my bleeding nation. ABDUL HAMID, THE TRIUMPH OF CRIME. A monster assassin! Has he been brought before the bar of his country, tried and condemned to the penalty of death, such as in the days of his power he meted out to hundreds of thousands of innocents? Has he been cast into a loathsome prison, such as the many in which thousands of his victims have rotted and died? Nay! not so! it is not so decreed in Turkey. In Turkey, a camarilla of murderous and plundering pashas, and a fanatical and marauding populace stand behind a Padishah who knew how to furnish gratification for the murdering and marauding instincts of his adherents. Nay! neither death nor imprisonment for the Padishah whose sovereignty was the most auspicious for brigandage and murder. Who dares to slay or imprison the demigod of rapine and despotism? Such things cannot be done in Turkey. For crimes that were in comparison as light as air, those puerile tyrants, Charles of England and Louis of France forfeited their heads. Poor Charles and Louis! Your heads chopped off and your bodies trundled away in a cart: no glorifying spiritualized titles of Zeid and Imam read out in your bills of indictment; such glorifying spiritualized titles are reserved for monster assassins in Turkey. In Turkey, a monster assassin whose list of murders rank him as premier assassin of the world, who under heel of iron and fire annihilated the rights and liberties of his subjects is pensioned off to live in purple and fare sumptuously: housed in a luxurious palace, he sits on carpeted divans, supported | not let me be told that one nation has no anthority over another'' was his reply to the Armenian deputation which waited on him in 1Sg4. Let hhis reply be your answer to us now, President of a mighty Republic; let it be your answer written in golden letters across the banner of that great civilization, of wiich you are the presiding head. The Republic of the United States of America has been compared to that grain of mustard seed, which when planted in the earth budded forth and grew into such dimensions that the birds of the air lodged under the branches thereof. I pray that the shadow of those branches be extended over my bleeding nation, ABDu. HAMU1D, 1-.\<- oMIPH OE CRIMIE. iT T 'tTT7 r rsrr A monster assassin! Has he been brought before the bar of his country, tried and condemned to the penalty of death, such as in the days of his power he meted out to hundreds of thousands of innocents ? Has he been cast into a loathsome prison, such as the many ix which thousands of his victims have rotted and died ? Nayl not so l it is not so decreed in Turkey. In Turkey, a camarilla of murderous and plundering pashas, and a fanatical and marauding populace stand behind a Padishah who knew how to furnish gratification for the murdering and marauding instincts of his adherents, Nay! neither death nor imprisonment for the Padishahh whose sovereignty was the most auspicious for brigandage and murder, WVho dares to slay or imprison the demigod of rapine and despotism ? Suuch things cannot be done in Turkey. For crimes that were in comparison as light as air, those peurile tyrants, Charles of England and Louis of France forfeited their heads, Poor Charles and Louis ! Your heads chopped off and your bodies trundled away in a cart: no glorifying spiritualized titles of Zeid and Imam read out in your bills of indictment; such glorifying spiritualized titles are reserved for monster assassins in Turkey. In Turkey, a monster assassin whose list of murders rank him as premier assassin of the world, who under heel of iron and fire annihilated the rights and liberties of hhis subjects is pensioned off to live in purple and fare sump- tuously : housed in a luxurious palace, he sits on carpeted divans, supported |
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| 60 victims in thy Yildiz Kiosk, found its way to thy treacherous heart. No poisoned cup of coffee like the countless cups brewed in thy palaces trickled down thy throat to end thy vampire existence. Thou hast lived! Protected from the Nemesis of thy crimes by the jealousies and rivalries of great powers which thou artfully played one against another; by the combined forces of religion and plunder which thou cunningly wielded into one. Even so thou livest! Peerless living example in the civilized twentieth century of the Triumph of Crime. L’AVENIR. In the foregoing pages I have directed my humble efforts to sketch out what the Powers of Europe have done in the past, and how their actions have reflected on my unfortunate race. It is considered good policy now by a certain class of European writers to ascribe all the horrors of the Armenian Massacres to Hamid the despot, to represent him as a tyrant as unassailable and unconquerable as he was implacable, in short as a sort of superhuman being who swept everything before him to the consummation of his own despotic will. The reason for this is not difficult to perceive. They would fain disavow the part Europe has played in the tragedy, and to do this successfully it becomes necessary also to present Turkey to the world now as a paradise (from whence the tyrant once removed) peopled only by saints and angels; so we have also many roseate colored word pictures of Constitutional Turkey. The murders, deportations and imprisonments of the Turkish revolutionaries, or more correctly reformers, were undoubtedly the sole work of Abdul Hamid and his palace clique, but Abdul and his minions could not have carried out that hellish work of wholesale extermination of the Armenians without the perpetration and participation of the Turkish people. It is true the massacres were originated and organized in the Palace, the Palace clique stirred up religious fanaticism and race hatred, but the co-operation of the people was necessary; and the people co-operated in order to plunder and enrich themselves with the worldly goods that the Armenians always knew how to acquire by their own industry and toil; the appeal to their marauding and bestial instincts met with a ready response. It was moreover easy work for a race of brigands, especially as their numbers exceeded their victims by about ten to one and who were practically unarmed. | victims in thy Yildiz Kiosk, found its way to thy treacherous heart. No poisoned cup of coffee like the countless cups brewed in thy palaces trickled down thy throat to end thy vampire existence. Thou hast lived ! Protected from the Nemesis of thy crimes by the jealousies and rivalries of great powers which thou artfully played one against anothher ; by the com)bined forces of religion and plunder which thou cunningly wielded into one. Even so thou livest! Peerless living examplc in thhe civilized teentieth century of the lriumph of Crime. L'AVENIR. In the foregoing pages I have directed my hummble cfforts to sketch out what the Powers of Europe have done in the past, and how their actions have reflected on my unfortunate race. It is considered good policy now by a certain class of European writers to ascribe all the horrors of the Armenian NIassacres to Hamyid the despot, to represent him as a tyrant as unassailable and unconquerable as he was implacable, in short as a sort of superhuman being who swept everything before him to the consummation of his own despotic will. 1 he reason for this is not difficult to perceive. They would fin disavow the part Europe has played in the tragedy, and to do this successfully it becomes necessary also to present Turley to the world now as a paradise (from whence the tyrant once rem)oved) peopled only by saints and angels ; so we have nlso many roseate colored word pictures of Constitutional Turkey, he murders, deportations and imprisonments of the Turkish revolu- tionaries, or more correctly reformmmers, were undoubtedly the sole work of Abdul Hamyid and his palace clique, but Abdul and his minions could not havc carried out that hellish work of wholesale extermination of the Armenians without the perpetration and participation of the Turkisl people. It is true the :assacres were originated and organized in the Palace, the Palace clique stirred up religious fanaticism and race hatred, but the co-operation of the people was necessary ; and the people co-operated in order to plunder and enrich themselves with the worldly goods that the Armenians always knew how to acquire by their own industry and toil ; the appeal to their marauding and bestial instincts met with a ready response, It was moreover easy work for a race of brigands, especially as their numbers exceeded their victims by about ten to one and whio were practically unarmyed. |
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| 63 THE ORIGIN OF THE ARMENIANS—THE INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY INTO ARMENIA—DECLINE & GRAND REVIVAL. “God shall enlarge Japhet and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem, and Canaan shall be his servant.” For the interpretation of this blessing of Noah’s to his eldest son, and of how it may or may not have met with its fulfilment, I shall leave to theologians to discuss, and only record it here as a quotation from Genesis. Beyond the story of his connection with the flood, and this blessing with which his father blessed him, and the genealogy of his sons, we read nothing more in Genesis, of Japhet, this mighty father of the Caucasian race. The genealogy in Genesis runs thus: “The sons of Japhet, Gomer and Magog and Madai, and Javan, and Tubal, and Meschech, and Tiras. “And the sons of Gomer: Ashkenaz and Riphath and Togarmah. “And the sons of Javan; Elishah and Tarshish, Kittim and Dodamin. “By these were the isles of the Gentiles divided in their lands; every one after his tongue, after their families, in their nations.” Only the names of the three sons of Gomer, and the four sons of Javan are given in Genesis, and by these we are told were the isles of the Gentiles divided. So much for Genesis. Later history records that these Gentiles spread themselves over part of that stretch of terra firma which now goes by the name of Europe, developing their own families, and their own nations, and originating their own tongues, and also they spread themselves over other parts of the surface of the globe, populating where they could, ruling where they could. But through the roll of centuries which lost themselves into the flight of thousand years, one branch of the sons of Japhet kept themselves on the land where Noah planted his vineyard, and round the base of that mountain from whence his descendants began to spread and people the earth. Tradition has woven a romance round the names of towns and villages in Armenia. “No aighee” (Noah’s vineyard) is the name of a village supposed to be the place where the patriarch planted his vine; and | ?-rsT r\T5 r*T IT- w:- O Iwus s: w u, A1MINIANS4- 1 u, - roDUC- rrrLTT tr TN T TTT5 ry TION OE wISTIANIIV INTO ARMIENIA- rp T 1Dos--\<-u S: GIAN1D REVIVA1L. T7r rxrr '' God shall enlarge ]aphet and he shall dwell i the tents of Shem, and Canaan shall be his servant.' For the interpretation of this blessing of Noah's to his cldest son, and of how it may or may not have met with its flfilmyent, I shall leave to theologians to discuss, and only record it here as a quotation from Genesis, lßeyond the story of his connection with the flood, and this blessing with which lis fthcr blessed him, and the genealogy of his sons, we read nothing mmore in Genesis, of ]aphet, this mighty father of he Caucasian race. The genealogy in Genesis runs thus: he sons of [aphet, Gomer and Niagog and NIadai, and [avan, and Tubal, and MIeschech, and Tiras ''And the sons of Gomer: Ashlenaz and Kiphath and Togarmal. '' And the sons lavan ; Elishah and Tarshish, Kittim and Dodamin, ''By these wcre the isles of the Gentiies divided in their lands ; every one after his tongue, after their families, in their nations,'' Only the names of the three sons of Gomer, and the four sons of avan are given in Genesis, and by these we are told were the isles of the Gentiles divided. So much for Genesis, Later history records that these Gentiles spread themselves over part of that stretch of terra firm)a which now goes by the namye of Europe, develop- ing their own families, and their own nations, and originating their own tongues, and also they spread themselves over other parts of the surface of the globe, populating where they could, ruling where they could. But through the roll of centuries which lost themselves into the tlight of thousandd years, one branch of the sons of aphet kept themselves on the land where Noah planted his vineyard, and round the base of that mountain from whence liis descendants began to spread and people thhe earth. lradition has woven a romance round the namies of towns and villages in Armenia. ''No aighee '' (Noah's vineyard) is the name of a village supposed to be thhe place wherc the patriarch planted his vine; and |
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| 67 I will again pass over the periods ruled by the successors of Amasia, and relate the story of King Aram, who ended his brilliant reign in B.C. 1796 after ruling over Armenia fifty-eight years. He was a great and powerful prince, and extended his dominions, and grew to be so mighty in battle that the neighbouring nations called his country Aramia and the people were called Aramians, such names as Armenia or Armenians being no doubt later corruptions. The first victory of Aram was over Neuchar king of Media, whom he took prisoner and put to death, and made a large part of the country of the defeated prince tributary to his own. The second victory of Aram was over Barsham king of Babylon, whom also he took prisoner and put to death. The next victory was over the king of Cappadocia; the army of the Cappadocians was pursued to the very shores of the Mediterranean, and the whole of Cappadocia fell into the hands of Aram B.C. 1796. Also Ninus king of Assyria, at one time an eager enemy, awed by the victories of Aram, sought to cultivate his friendship. No doubt if the volumes and scripts of paper or parchment of the famous Alexandrian library, which burned for six months as fuel in the four thousand baths of the city, had escaped that most atrocious act of vandalism, and been preserved instead, vast treasures of knowledge now lost to us concerning the ancient kingdoms of Western Asia might be known in our day; and also when the tide of Islam victory rolled over the kingdom of Armenia, how much of the story and history of the people was lost and destroyed along with the destruction of their independence it would be difficult now to calculate or assert, but in taking up link by link of whatever knowledge has been left to us, there seems to be grounds for supposing that the “Aramæans” designated by foreign writers as “a people of Semitic race, language and religion, coming from Northern Arabia and settling in the region between the western boundaries of Babylonia and the highlands of Western Asia” were no other than the Hai who under their King Aram had spread their conquests and their kingdom into Mesopotamia and even to the shores of the Mediterranean. Herodotus also rather corroborates this conjecture when he includes Northern Mesopotamia, together with the mountainous country of Ararat, under the name of Armenia, and in writing of the Armenian boats that brought merchandise to Babylon, he remarks that they were constructed in Armenia, in the parts above Assyria. Archæological researches have laid the claim that the modern Armenians are the descendants of the old Hittites; the modern Armenian being supposed | I will again pass over the periods ruled by the successors of Amasia, and relate the story of King Aram, who ended hhis brilliant reign in B.C. 17g6 after ruling over Armyenia fifty-eight years. He was a great and powerful prince, and estended his dominions, and grew to be so mighty in battle that the neighbouring nations called his country Aramia and the people were called Aramians, such names as Armenia or Armenians being no doubt later corruptions. 'he first victory of Aram was over Neuchar king of MIedia, whom he took prisoner and put to death, and mmade a large part of the country of the dlefeated prince tributary to his own, The second victory of Aram was over Barsham king of Babylon, whom also he took prisoner and put to death. The next victory was over the king of Cappadocia; the army of the Cappadocians was pursued to the very shores of the MIediterranean, and the whole of Cappadocia fell into the hands of Aram B.u. 17g6. Also Ninus king of Assyria, at one time an eager enemy, awed by the victories of A ram, sought to cultivate his friendship. No doubt if the volumyes and scripts of paper or parchment of the famous Alexandrian library, which burned for sixss mmonths as fuel in the four thousand baths of the city, hhad escaped that most atrocious act of vandalism, and been preserved instead, vast treasures of knowledge now lost to us concerning the ancient kingdoms of Western Asia might be known in our day; and also when the tide of slam victory rolled over the kingdom of Armenia, how much of the story and history of the people was lost and destroyed along with the destruction of their independence it would be difficult now to calculate or assert, but in taking up linl by linl of whatever knowledge has been left to us, there scems to be grounds for supposing that the '' Arama:ans '' ddesignated by foreign writers as '' a peoplc of Semitic race language and religion, comiing from Northern Arabia and settling in the region between the western boundaries of Babylonia and the highlands of Western Asia '' were no other than the Hai who under their King Aram had spread their conquests and their kingdom into NIesopotamia and even to the shores of the MIediterranean. Herodotus also rathcr corroborates this conjecture when hc includes Northern NIesopotamia, togethher with the mountainous country of Ararat, under the namve of Armenia, and in writing of the Armenian boats thiat broughht merchandise to Babylon, he remarks that they werc constructed in Armenia, ftu 4Ae parts a\&o:e Ass)'fa. Archhaological researches have laid the claim that the mmodern Arm:enians are the descendants of the old Hittites ; the modern Armenian being supposed |
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| 76 meaning; sometimes modes of expression are so difficult to translate from one language into another, and it can be said that the term “Illuminator” is used for want of a better word in English. The Armenians call their religion “loois havat;” the word “loois” means “light” and “havat” means “faith” or “religion,” but if I translated the two words as “enlightened faith” or “enlightened religion” the translation would not suitably convey the meaning of the original. THE CATHEDRAL OF ETCHMIATZIN. (Only Begotten Descended). Seat of the Supreme Patriarch. The foundation stone was laid by St. Gregory the Illuminator who built the Church in the third century of the Christian era. The cathedral of Etchmiatzin is identified with Gregory; its name “Etchmiatzin” means in the Armenian language “the only begotten is descended,” and the story attached to it is, that in a vision Christ appeared to Gregory descended in light; Gregory built his church on the spot where the vision had appeared to him, giving it the name of “Etchmiatzin” (only begotten descended). The cathedral also gives its name to the town Etchmiatzin, the ecclesiastical metropolis of Armenia. | 76 meaning ; sometimes modes of expression are so difficult to tra nslate from one language into another, and it can be said that the termy ''Illuminator '' is used for want of a better word in English. The Armenians call their religion '' loois hhavat'' the word '' loois'' means '' light'' and ''havat'' mmeans '' faith '' or '' religion,'' but if I translated the two words as '' enligltencd faith '' or '' enlightened religion '' the translation woull not suitably convey the meaning of the original. . --S3: . -> e f 2' sSA -3R; wY W4e 8 Te' e. i %.r Pa \&.' z w. .@,EW ' -ssf 42 nf.'. A4 y' a A9 -- 5. a=\<s ' - '' . A 4A epM =A'. L. { - ' ...--- ' E-4 S 4S8 ''.. + - a .A ., '------- ;- 8g +.\& . 4 . ,' - 3Ef eS . - z %S'- c.4.8LP %..----:z -z55YY +' GW e ' ew %I-PE M+ 6 a s =%L - '-. - 'a: G4 sE a - 7 -2 ^. TYS4. >-- o5- G-- -- 5' \& 4s33 '.9 R5@ESGGeAeaaGaA=S4SS8 =. - ---'2L.* ,g,a5-- - ------ THE CATHEDRAIL OF ETCHM IATzIS. (Only Begotten Dcs:ended). Seat of the Supreme Patriarch, Te foundation stone was laid by St, Gregory the Illuminator who built the Church iun the third century of tho Christinn cra, he cathedral of Etchmiatzin is identified with Gregory; its name ' Etchniatzin '' means in the Armenian language ''the only begotten is descended,'' and the story attached to it is, that in a vision Christ appeared to Gregory descended in light; Gregory built his church on the spot where the vision had appeared to him, giving it the name of ''Etchmiatzin '' (only begotten descended), The cathedral also gircs its name to the town TEtchmiatzin, the ecclesiastical metropolis of Armenia, |
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| 77 Since the time of Gregory, Christianity has been the national religion of the Armenians, and they have clung to their christian faith through unremitting persecutions and martyrdoms such as no other christian people have been called upon to endure. The cathedral of Etchmiatzin built by Gregory still stands to-day; it has constantly been repaired and rebuilt in some part or other, until perhaps little of the original building may be left, but it still claims to be the church built by the patron saint of Armenia. I shall here quote a passage from “Historical Sketch of the Armenian Church,” written by an Armenian priest: “Owing to political circumstances the Armenian Patriarchate had at times to be transferred to metropolises and to other principal towns of Armenia. In the year A.D. 452 it was removed to Dwin, in 993 to Ani, in 1114 to Rômklah, and in 1294 to Sis. The Kingdom of Cilicia becoming extinct, and, we having no more a kingdom and no longer a capital town, it was natural and proper to re-transfer the See to its own original place, as the entire nation unanimously desired it. Accordingly, in the year 1441, it was decided by an ecclesiastical meeting that the seat of the Catholicus should return to Holy Etchmiatzin, where to this day has been preserved the proper unbroken succession from our Apostles and from our holy Father, St. Gregory the Illuminator.” I read the other day in one of the foreign papers published in Japan, the following piece of news: “An Armenian Church pronounced by experts to date from the second century of the Christian era, has been discovered in a fair state of preservation in the neighbourhood of Bash-Aparnah.” Perhaps the excavations in Armenia which Professor Marr is now conducting might lead to throwing more light on Armenian history. | Since the time of Gregory, Christinity has becn tie national religion of the Armenians, and they have clung to their christian faith through un- remitting persecutions and martyrdoms such1 as no other christian people lavc been called upon to endure, The cathedral of Etchmiatzin built by Gregory still stands to-day; it has constantly been repaired and rebuilt in some pat or other, until perhaps little of the original building may be left, but it still claimms to be the church built by the patron saint of Armenia, I shall here quote a passage from '' Historical Sletcl of the Armenian Church,'' written by an Armmenian priest : '' Owing to political circummstances the Armenian Tatriarchate had at times to be transferred to metropolises and to other principal towns of Armenia. In the year A.D. 52 it was removed to Dwin, in 093 to Ani, in to R6mllah, and in ag4 to Sis, he Kingdom of Cilicia becoming extinct, and, we having no more a kingdom and no longer a capital town, it was natural and proper to re-transfer the See to its own original place, as the entire nation unanim)ously desired it, Accordingly, in the year i441, it was decided by an ecclesiastical meeting that the seat of the Catholicus should return to Holy Etchmsiatzin, where to this day has been preserved the proper unbroken succession fromy our Apostles and from our holy FFather, St. Gregory the Illuminator,'' I read the other day in one of he foreign papers published in [apan, the followiing piece of news: '' An Armenian Churchh pronounced by experts to date fromy the second century of the Christian era, has been discovcrcd in a fair statc of preserva- tion in the neighbourhood of Bash-Aparnah.'' Perhaps the excavations in Armyenia which Professor Nia rr is now conducting might lead to throwing more light on Armenian history. |
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| CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES. That there has hitherto existed no good book of Engravings of the nobler wild animals, to assist the progress of the student in that department of Art, is to be regretted. The talents of Mr. John Scott, brought into action by those of Gilpin, Cooper, and the Reinagles, have presented the public with excellent representations of the distinguished ornaments of the turf: the sports of the field, and the habits and manners of the canine race, were also duly honoured: but of the ferocious Tiger tribe, and the lordly Lion, we have nothing extant that would bear critical inspection, beyond a few detached prints:—nothing like a collection of figures, whose justness and accuracy of form, action, character, and expression, might be relied on. Does any reader imagine that the various Etchings which have been performed—chiefly abroad—by Artists of no mean ability, may be considered as exceptions? They are not exceptions: or at best, the number which might be so regarded is but small, and those, for the most part, of dimensions not accommodated to the drawer of the cabinet, or the shelf of the library. But they are not objectionable on this ground alone. Speaking of them in the aggregate, the heavier charge lies against them of being insufficient to those purposes of taste and information which are the ends of Art. Even those after Titian and after Rubens (the latter of whom has perhaps painted a greater number than any other of the old masters) are far more deficient in form, character, and expression, than is generally supposed, or than will be easily believed, by those who have not actually compared them with the Lions, Leopards, and Tigers of Nature. They have been taken too much on the credit which attaches to the great names of their authors.—Nor is this intended to impugn the merits, as historical or poetical painters, of those distinguished Artists, but simply as an assertion of truth. It is possible, that as a painter of allegory, Rubens might consider that strong infusion of human form, character, and expression, by which his Lions, for example, are distinguished, as necessary, or conducive, to his allegorical purposes; or, it is possible that his knowledge of this animal may not have been thoroughly well-grounded, and that he may have laboured under early prejudice of mind, or of vision, in this part of his education as a Painter, and may not have seen Lions as they really are. This is what the writer is most inclined to believe, (though not to insist); for even in treating the subject of Daniel in the den of Lions— | UUx.Lvi 1 v aluu U 3 ut u aJU/ AV =. -=- s= A TNT T Y7 y T)Y e nyTT 1 7 Ty T) TT Yss4 -rs r H h. 1 1 TDESCIUTTION OF THE Pl.ES. TmaT there has hitherto esisted no good book of IEngravings of the nobler wild nnimals, to nssist the progress of the student in thnt depnnrtment of Art, is to be regretted, The talents of Mr. JonN ScoTr, brought into nction by those of Gm.rn, CooPER, and thie IEINaGLE8, have presented the ppublic with excellent representations of the distinguished ornamments of the turf: the sports of the field, nnd the habits nnd manners of the canine rnce, were also duly honoured : but of the ferocious TIaEn tribe, nnd the lordly LtoN, we hnve nothing extnnt thnt would benr critical inspection, beyond a few detnched prints :--nothing like n collection of figures, whose justness and nccuracy of form, nction, character, and expression, might be relied on. Does any reader imagine that the various IEtchings which lave been performed-chiefly abroad-by Artists of no mean ability, may be considered ns exceptions? Thhey nre not exceptions; or at best, the number which might be so regnrded is bbut small, and those, for the most part, of dimensions not nccommodated to the drawer of the cnbinet, or the shelf of the library. But they are not objectionnble on this ground alone. Speaking of them in the aggregate, the henvier chnrge lies against them of being insufficient to those purposes of taste and information which are the ends of Art. Even those nfter TrraN nnd after RunnENs (the lntter of whom has perhaps painted a grenter number than any other of the old masters) are fr more deficient in form, character, and espression, than is generally supposed, or than will be ensily believed, by those who have not actually compnred them with the Lions, Leopnrds, and Tigers of Nature. They have been taken too much on the credit whichh nttaches to the great nnmes of their authors, -NSor is this intended to impugn the merits, as historical or poetical painters, of those distinguished Artists, but simply as an assertion of truth. It is possible, that ns a painter of nllegory, RunENs might consiler that strong infusion of luman form, charncter, nnd espression, by whhich hhis Lions, for example, are distinguished, ns necessnry, or conducive, to his allegorical purposes; or, it is pos- sible that his knowledge of this nnimnl may not have been thoroughly well-grounded, nnd thnt he may have lnboured under early prejudice of mind, or of vision, in this pnrt of his education as a Painter, and may not have seen Lions as they renlly are, This is what the writer is most inclined to believe, (though not to insist); for even in treating the subject of Dnniel in the den of Lions- 5 |
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| 2 CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. the scene of which, by the way, he has not represented as a royal menagerie, but as a wild, rocky cavern—his animals partake of the artificial character of which we cannot bring ourselves to approve. Of this fact, however, we purpose to exhibit proof with our assertion. Improved versions, to the best abilities of our Artists, of some of these Lions of Rubens and the Assyrian king, will here be introduced, which the reader, who pleases, may compare with the originals. Our second, third, and fourth Plates are of the number. The Lions of Rubens are humanized. We do not intend to discuss at length whether the ideality of allegorical painting required this: we only state the fact: yet the opinions which we felt at liberty to form on the subject, we feel at liberty to utter. So much in apology for using the licence of asserting that the heads of many of the Lions of Rubens rather resemble those of frowning old gentlemen decorated with Ramillies wigs; as if Nature’s journeymen had made manes, and not made them well. There is a profusion of flowing and curling hair, which seems rather to solicit the unguents of the perfumer, than to have endured the torrid heats of the desert, or the rough storms of the forest. The shag of a Lion’s mane is a very different sort of thing. However such dressed Lions may be thought to accord with Allegory, they are demonstrably at variance with Nature. To be sure, what might become a Lion in the procession of the Cardinal Virtues, might be rather unsuitable in his den, or within the precincts of those wild haunts, where he is accustomed to roam in his natural state. We have often read of the fabled Men-bulls, or (Minotaurs,) and we find such on the coinage of Crete. These allegorical creatures of Rubens, which, alas! have sometimes been quoted by Artists without half his genius, and placed in savage conflicts, or beside their Britannias—are a species of Men-lions. Placed among the Sabæan sculptures, they might pass for incarnations of Sol in Leo; but would very ill pass for Leo alone. Among the observers of this poetic improvement, or this natural and unpoetical deficiency, on the part of Rubens, Titian, Julio Romano, and other painters, both ancient and modern; and of the consequent desideratum on the part of the public, of a cabinet or library collection of the nobler wild animals in a state of Nature, so as to answer the purposes of reference, while they conduced to the pleasures of Taste, were Mr. Edgar Spilsbury and Mr. Thomas Landseer. Whether or not the public “looked up to them for light” on that subject, (to use the language of Sterne,) they thought the Public “deserved it;” and they therefore, as the best practical means of eliciting that light, first copied the general forms and attitudes of most of the wild animals that appear in this book, from the old masters—generally speaking, from works that are well known—and then, went to Nature and corrected the details. They carried with them what, in those ancient masters, was meritorious in composition, attitude and chiaroscuro, and brought away, to the best of their ability—superadding it to, and blending it with, the above—accuracy of detail. | CAINIVOHOUS QUADRUPEDS. the scene of which, by the way, he has not represented as a royal menagerie, but as n wild, rocky cavern-his animals partale of the artificial character of which we cannot bring ourselres to approve. Of this fact, however, we purpose to eshibit proof with our assertion. lImproved versions, to the best nbilities of our Artists, of some of these Lions of IBENs and the Assyrian king, will here be introduced, which the reader, who pleases, may compare with thhe originals, Our second, third, and fourth Plates are of the number. The Lions of RUnrNs are kmanized, We do not intend to discuss at length whether the ideality of allegoricnl pninting required this : we only state thhe fact : yet the opinions whichh we felt at liberty to form on the subject, we feel at liberty to ntter, So much in apology for using the licence of asserting that the heads of many of the lLions of RUBENS rather resemble those of frowmning old gentlemen decorated with R4amillies wigs; as if Nnture's journeymen had mnde manes, and not made them well. There is a profusion of flowing and curling hair, which seems rather to solicit the unguents of the perfumer, than to have endured the torrid heats of the desert, or the rough storms of the forest. The shhag of a Lion's mane is n very different sort of thing. However such dressed Lions may be thought to accord with Allegory, they nre demonstrably nt varinnce with Nature, To be sure, what might become a lLion in the procession of the Cardinal Virtues, might be rather unsuitnble in his den, or within the precincts of thhose wild haunts, where he is accustomed to ronm in his natural stnte, We hhnve often read of the fabled Mien-bulls, or (Mino- taurs,) nnd we find such on the coinnge of Crete, These allegorical creatures of IUBENs, which, alas ! have sometimes been guoted by Artists without hnlf his genius, and plnced in snvage con- flicts, or beside thcir IBritnnnias-are a species of Men-lions, Plnced among the Sabo:an sculp- tures, thhey might pass for incarnations of Sol in Leo; but would very ill pass for Leo alone. Among thie observers of this poetic improvement, or thiis natural and unpoetical deficiency, on the part of RUBENs, TrAN, JULo OMAN0, and other painters, both nncient and modern; and of the consequent desideratm on the part of thhe public, of n cabinet or library collection of the anobler wild animals in a state of Nature, so as to answer the purposes of reference, while they con- duced to the plensures of Taste, were Mr. EDGaI SPLLSBURY nnd Mr, THoMAS LANDSEER. Whether or not the publie '*looked up to thiem for light'' on that subject, (to use the lnnguage of STERNE,) they thought the Public '*deserved it ;' and they therefore, as the best practical means of eliciting that light, first copied the general forms and attitudes of most of the wild animals that appear in this book, from the old masters-generally speking, from works that nre well known -and then, went to Nnture and corrected the details, They carried with them what, in those nncient masters, was meritorious in composition, attitude nnd chiaroscuro, and brought away, to the best of their ability-superadding it to, and blending it with, the nbove--accuracy of detail, |
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| CARNIVOROUS QUADRIPEDS. 3 Every artist does best, that which he is best qualified and best disposed to do. In completing the number of plates that has been found necessary for the Work, Mr. Edwin Landseer has chosen to proceed toward the same purpose, upon a different principle. He has gone, without any introductory medium, directly to the living animals, and has exhibited the savage manners and habits of these quadrupeds, according to his own ideas and observations. On the distinction between Character and Expression, we shall now deliver our opinion. By the Character of an animal, we mean those permanencies of his look and features which he always offers to view when in a placid, or unimpassioned state: by his Expression, the variations of muscular action superinduced on character, to which he is liable, as the storms of passion sweep by, and his mind becomes agitated by external circumstances acting on the ardours of his instinct. The former, seems to hold its court in the solid and massy parts: the latter, agitates, ofttimes rebelliously, the nerves and muscles. Character is ever present, both in the animal countenance, and in the “human face divine.” The most violent expression does not proscribe, or obliterate, character. Individuality consists of it, as far as concerns external appearance; and it forms the system of vowels of the language of Nature, without which no Expression could be. Whoever regards the faces of a flock of Sheep, will see in them an infinite variety of Character, with very little Expression, and that little without diversity: and if we descend a step lower in the scale of being, and contemplate the finny tribe, where Character is not wanting, we find no Expression at all. Even Trees and inanimate objects, possess Character. We recollect a poetical friend of ours, now in Italy, saying that every tree and every rock had a face—but of this we are not so certain; though very certain, that there is enough of Character in rocks and trees, to make a poet think so. Character and Expression, in the carnivorous class of animals, to which we here solicit attention, are always co-existent—their proportions varying with the existing occasions—in pictorial exhibitions of such subjects. No. II. There is much Character, and little Expression, in the reposing Leopard with his sheathed claws, which is shewn in the present engraving, copied by Mr. Spilsbury from Ridinger, and corrected from Nature. Ridinger was an artist of great power, who studied wild animals in their sequestered haunts, as is shewn in his grand forest back-grounds; and who, generally speaking, left little or no room for others to improve, except on some few of his inferior works. The present is an interesting and beautiful animal, yet there is a latent capability of mischief characterised in his countenance, and we might ask, in the language of Job, “Who shall dare to rouse him up?” | CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. Eyery artist does best, that which he is best qualified nnd best disposed to do, In com- pleting the number of plntes that hhns been found necessary for the Work, Mr, Enwen LaNnDsEE has chosen to proceed toward the same purpose, upon n different principle. He has gone, without any introductory medium, directly to the living animals, and has exhibited the savage manners and habits of these qundrupeds, according to his own ideas nnd observntions. On the distinction between CHARACTER nnd ExPRESSION, we shall now deliver our opinion. IBy the Character of an animal, we menn those permanencies of his look nnd features which he nlways offers to view when in a plncid, or nnim)passioned state : by his Ebymession, the variations of muscular action superinduced on character, to which he is liable, ns the storms of passion sweep by, and his mind becomes agitated by external circumstances acting on the ardours of his instinct. The former, seems to hold its court in the solid and massy parts : the latter, agitutes, oft- times rebelliously, the nerves and muscles, Character is ever present, both in the animal coun- tenance, and in the 'human face divine,'' The most violent expression does not proscribe, or obliterate, character, Individuality consists of it, as far as concerns external appearance; and it forms thie system of vowels of the language of Nnture, without which no Expression could be. Whoever regards the faces of a flock of Sheep, will see in them an infinite variety of Chnracter, with very little Expression, and that little withhont diversity: and if we descend a step lower in the scale of being, and contemplnte the finny tribe, where Character is not wanting, we find no IEspression at nll, Eyen Trees and inanimate objects, possess Chnracter. We recollect a poetical friend of ours, now in Italy, saying that every tree and every rock had a fee-but of this we are 7!TN*S + -=+=4=++= =+ Character and Eb;mession, in the carnivorous clnss of animals, to which we here solicit attention, are always co-esistent - their proportions vnrying with the existing occasions-in pictorial exlibitions of such subjects. No. I. TnmEuE is much Character, and little Expression, in the reposing JLeopard with his sheathed elaws, which is shewn in the present engraving, copied by Mr, SvlsBURY from IlpnGE, and corrected from Nature, RIDISGER was an nrtist of great power, who studied wild nnimals in their sequestered baunts, as is shewn in his grand forest back-grounds; and who, generally speaking, left little or no room for others to improve, escept on some few of his inferi6r works, The present is an interesting and beautiful animal, yet there is a lntent capability of mischief characterised in his countenance, and we miglt ask, in the lnngunge of Job, Who shnll dare to rouse him up !'' |
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| 4 CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. No. III. Two Couchant Lions, after Rubens, taken from his celebrated picture before alluded to, of the Prophet Daniel incarcerated in the den. The Lions are here supposed to be miraculously held in a state of tranquillity. Here, too, is not much Expression, but an extraordinary grandeur of Character, suited to the greatness of an occasion where the Deity himself especially interferes to seal up the voracious energies of the most terrible of his creatures, in calm submission. There is a character of royal dignity mingled with this submission, which is very impressive, and even sublime. The writer esteems this to be a successful restoration of the Nature that was wanting in the prints of this subject, (which has often been engraved by Picart and others,) after Rubens. The original picture it has been our ill-fortune never to have seen. The shaggy manes, and the latent terror that sits gloomily enthroned in the open eyes of the superior Lion—suited to the darkness of the den, and the nature of this animal’s sense of vision,—are as well thought of, as they are executed; and are varied with much address from the closed eyes of the couching Lion beyond, of which also the character is most happily marked. A powerful and divine spell possesses them both. No. IV. The Tiger which marches in our procession, without an object before him to call forth emotion, possesses a calm character, combined with the resistless strength of that dreadful quadruped; whose very tranquillity, in his leisure sauntering, when no excitement is acting on his nerves, has an appalling effect.—His brow is clouded, though his claws are sheathed. There is a possibility of a dreadful storm which may not be far distant, and that is enough to stamp the Tiger’s character. None shall dare to arouse his energies, nor to encounter them when aroused. No. V. This group of playful Leopards, after Rubens, must be supposed to belong to the jocund train of Bacchus, since they are luxuriating at their ease, among grapes and vine branches. These Leopards are doubtless intended to have a degree of playful expression—induced perhaps by the exhilarating juice of the grape: and we should “guess” (as Jonathan says) that this group was studied from a litter of half-grown kittens. Few, however, except the sailors who were accustomed to gambol with the Tiger-cub on board the Pitt East-Indiaman, would like to venture to frolic with them. | +-4---l cARNIVOIOUS QUADRUPEDS. No. A4- Two CopcaaNT LONS, aPTER RUBENs, taken from his celebrated picture before alluded to, of the Prophet Dnniel incarcerated in the den, The Lions are here supposed to be miraculously held in a stnte of tranquillity. Here, too, is not much IExpression, but an extraordinary grandeur of Chnrncter, suited to the greatness of an occasion where the Deity himself especially interferes to senl up the voracious energies of the most terrible of his creatures, in calm submission. There is n character of royal dignity mingled with this submission, which is very impressire, and even sublime. The writer esteems this to be a successfol restoration of the Nnture that wns wanting in the prints of this subject, (which hhns often been engraved by PcaT and others,) after RUBENs. The original picture it has been our ill-fortune never to have seen, The shnggy manes, and thie lntent terror that sits gloomily enthroned in the open eyes of the superior Lion-suited to the darkness of the den, and the nature of this animals sense of vision,--are as well thought of, as they are executed; and nre vnried with much nddress from the closed eyes of the couching luion beyond, of which nlso the character is most happily marked. A powerful and dirine spell possesses them both. No, IV. TnE TaEuu wicH MACHES IN OUR PROCESSION, withhout an object before him to call forth emotion, possesses a calm character, combined with the resistless strength of thut dreadful qundruped ; whose very trnnquillity, in his leisure snuntering, when no excitement is ncting on his nerves, has an appalling effect.-His brow is clouded,though his clnws are sheathed. There is a possibility of n dreadful storm which may not be far distnnt, and that is euough to stamp the Tiger's character. None shall dare to arouse his energies, nor to encounter them when aroused. No. V. THs GROUP oF PLAYFUI. LEOPaRDs, APTER RUDENs, must be supposed to belong to the jocund train of Bacchus, since they are luxuriating at their ease, among grapes and vine branches, TThese lLeopards are doubtless intended to have a degree of plnyful expression-induced perhaps by the eshilarating juice of the grape: and we should '' guess'' (as Jonatkan says) that this group was studied from n litter of half-grown kittens, Few, however, except the sailors who were accustomed to gambol with the Tiger-cub on bonrd the Pitt Enst-Indiamnn, would lile to venture to frolie nith them. |
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| CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. 5 No. VI. In this GROUP by Mr. Edwin Landseer there is much of violent animal Expression, and Character fades before it, or rather, is absorbed in it. It tells a story of the past as well as the present, and is pregnant with a catastrophe not difficult to anticipate from the actions and expressions of the parties engaged. A Fawn has been seized by a Leopard, who has been despoiled of his prey by a more powerful Tiger. The Tiger in his turn becomes the victim of an enraged Lion. The expression of the wounded Leopard is that of painful suffering mingled with dread. Together, they amount to agony. He shrieks while he submits. The Tiger is still enraged and resisting, though astounded with the power and suddenness of the Lion’s attack. He is losing his energy of resistance, and is beginning to feel that all resistance is vain. He roars with anguish; while his expression is that of terror, and indignation not yet subdued. The Lion, who has just made his thundering spring, appears conscious of having fatally seized his adversary, and luxuriates fearlessly in his victory; and with a powerful and just expression of carnivorous enjoyment.—Meanwhile the characters of the animals, severally, are faithfully and specifically represented. Although our main purpose be to exhibit rather a pictorial than a physiological view of the subject: having descanted on the word Character, we shall probably be expected to add, at least a word or two, on the leading characteristics of the carnivorous class of quadrupeds. The generic characters of the Feline, or Cat, kind, are easily enumerated in the concise language of the naturalists. Their heads are round; their visages short: they have six cutting teeth, and two canine, in either jaw: their tongues are aculeated, the prickles inclining backward; their claws sharp, hooked, and retractile; their ears small and acuminated; they have five toes on each of the fore-feet, and four only on those behind. Of this genera of Cats, we here exhibit the four principal species, Lions, Tigers, Leopards, and Panthers, of which the Lion is justly placed at the head—at least, the unanimous voice of ages has pronounced him to be the king of beasts, and we have enthroned him accordingly in our Title-page, (No. I.) They form a tribe that is especially and properly Carnivorous, being the only class of quadrupeds that are exclusively flesh-eaters. Their jaws are very completely armed for this purpose; their canine teeth being very long and angular, with the edges of the angles turned toward the inside of their mouths; so that when the animal has caused them to meet, or cross each other in the flesh of its prey, these formidable teeth will cut or tear a way through, by drawing them back without opening his mouth. Their claws, and the formation of their feet, too, are eminently conducive to their predacious | CaRNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. No, VI. IN this aRoUP by MR, EnwN LANDsEER there is much of violent animal Eayressien, and Character fades before it, or rather, is absorbed in it, It tells a story of the pnst as well as the present, and is pregnant with a catastrophhe not difficult to anticipate from the nctions nnd expressions of the parties engaged. A FaYN has been seized by a LEoraRD, who has been despoiled of his prey by a more powerful Ttaraa. The Tiger in his,turn becomes the victim of an enraged LoN. The espression of thhe wounded Leopnrd is thnt of pninful suffering mingled withh drend, Together, they amount to agony. Ie shrieks while he submits, The Tiger is still enraged and resisting, though astounded with the power and suddenness of the Lion's attack, He is losing his energy of resistance, and is beginuiing to feel thnt all resistnce is vain. He ronrs with anguish; while lis expression is that of terror, and indignation not yet subdued. The Lion, who bas just mäde hhis thunderitg spring, appenrs conscious of hiaving fitally seized his adversary, and luxuriates fearlessly in his victory; and with n powerful nnd just expression of carnivorous enjoyment,--Meanwhile the characters of the animals, severally, are fnithfully nnd specifically represented. Although our main purpose be to eshibit rather a pictorinl than a physiologicnl view of the subject: having descanted on the word Character, we shhall probabbly be espected to ndd, at least a word or two, on the leading characteristics of the carnivorous clnss of quadrnpeds, The generic characters of the Feline, or Cat, kind, are ensily enumerated in the concise language of the naturalists, Their heads are round; their visages short : they have sis cutting teeth, nnd two canine, in either jaw: their tongues are aculeated, the prickles inclining backward; their clnws sharp, hooked, and retractile ; their ears small and acuminated; they have five toes on each of the fore-feet, and four' only on those behind. Of this genera of Cats, we here exhibit the four principal species, Lions, Tigers, Leopards, and Panthers, of which the Lion is justly plnced at the head-at least, the unanimous voice of ages has pronounced him to be the king of beasts, and we have enthroned him nccordingly in our Title- poge, (No, I.) They form a tribe thnt is especinlly and properly Grnicorous, being the only clnss of quadrupeds that are exclusively fesh-catera, Their jaws are very completely armed for this purpose; their canine teeth being very long and angulnr, with the edges of the angles turned toward the inside of their mouths; so that when the.nnimal has caused them to meet, or cross each other in the flesh of its prey, these formidable teeth will cut or tear a way through, by drawing them back without opening his mouth. Thheir clnws, and the formation of their feet, too, are eminently conducive to their predacious |
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| 6 CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. and carnivorous habits. They walk on their toes: yet not so much from that habitual stealthiness of pace, by which they advance unperceived till within a spring of their prey; as because it is also the means of that celerity of motion which is necessary to the very existence of animals that can feed only on flesh. Their claws are exceedingly powerful; and they are enabled to draw them up into sheaths between their toes, so as to prevent their points from touching the ground; whence they are called retractile; and those claws are, in consequence, always kept sharp, unworn, and ready for active service. The eyes of the Feline tribe—of every face in nature a striking and important feature—vary in the different species, and are capable of much alteration in the same animal; as instinctive impulse, or internal emotion, changes the expression of his countenance; and also from the degrees of light which act upon their pupils. Of Lions the pupils of the eyes are circular, and not of a yellow colour, as has been stated in the most diffuse modern dissertations on the Carnivora, but black. It is the iris of the Lion’s eye that is yellow. They appear to be best suited to nocturnal, or twilight, vision; and hence the Lion rarely hunts his prey while the sun is above the horizon—perhaps never, but when pressed by hunger in an extraordinary degree. The Tiger, on the contrary, will seek his prey by day as well as by night; and during twilight the colour of his eyes is that of a blue-green flame. If a stranger passes near a Tiger in a menagerie, the colour of the animal’s eyes will sometimes alter suddenly, from yellow-green to blue-green; not from any alteration in the degree of light acting upon them, but from mental excitement, and from a certain natural facility of expansion and contraction of the eye-pupils. Hence a characteristic difference between the Lion and the Tiger. The habits of the latter are diurnal, and he disregards night-fires: the Lion, on the contrary, whose eyes are not calculated for the glare of day, cannot bear to encounter fire-light at night. Yet these physical conformations are sometimes overcome by the rage of hunger; and hence, in Mr. Edwin Landseer’s contending group, the Lion is represented as attacking the Tiger although it be day. Mr. Bell treats learnedly, and we believe with much originality, of the facial-muscles of this class of quadrupeds, in his “Anatomy of Expression.”—We shall offer a few extracts, by which the reader will perceive how limited are their powers of expression of countenance, when compared with those of human nature, notwithstanding their superiority over all other quadrupeds. “The violent passions mark themselves so distinctly on the countenances both of men and of animals, that we are apt in the first instance to consider the movements by which they are indicated, as certain signs or characters provided by Nature, for the express purpose of intimating the internal emotion; and to suppose that they are interpreted by the observer in consequence of a peculiar and instinctive faculty. This view of things, however, so natural at first sight, is not altogether satisfactory to philosophy; and a more jealous observation of the facts, seems to suggest | CAINIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. and carnivorous habits, They walk on their toes : yet not so much from that hnbitual stealthiness of pace, by which they advance unperceived till within a spring of their prey; as because it is nlso the means of that celerity of motion which is necessary to the very existence of animals that can fleed only on flesh. Their claws are exceedingly powerfil; nnd they are enabled to draw them up into sheaths between their toes, so as to prevent their points from touching the ground ; whence they are called retractile ; and those clnws are, in consequence, always kept sharp, unworn, and ready for nctire seryice. The eyes of the Feline tribbe- of every face in nnture a striking and important feature-vary in the different species, and are capable of much alteration in the same animal ; as instinctive impulse, or internal emotion, changes the expression of his countenance ; and also frou the degrees of light which act upon their pupils, Of Lions the pupils of thhe eyes are circular, and not of n yellow colour, as has been stnted in the most diffase modern dissertations on the Carnirorn, but blnck, It is the iris of the Lion's eye that is yellow. They appear to be best snited to nocturnnl, or twilight, vision; and hence the Lion rarely hunts his prey wlile the sun is abbove thhe horizon-perbbaps never, but when pressed by hunger in an estraordinary degree. The Tiger, on the contrary, will seek lis prey by day as well as by nigbt; and during tilight the colour of his eyes is that of n blue-green flnume. If n strnnger passes nenr n Tiger in a menngerie, the colour of the animal's eyes will sometimes nlter suddenly, from yellow-green to blue-green ; mnot from any alteration in the degree of light acting upon them, but from mmental escitement, and from a certain natural facility of espansion and contraction of thhe eye-pupils. Hence a characteristic difference betwee n the Lion and the Tiger. The habits of the lntter nre diurnal, and he disregards night-fires : the Lion, on the contrry, whose eyes are not calculated for the glnre of day, cannot bear to encounter fire-light nt night. Yet these physical conforma- tions are sometimes overcomme by the rage of hunger; and hence, in MT. IEDWIN LANDSEEI'S contending group, the Lion is represented ns attncking the Tiger although it be day. MR. IBEL. treats learnedly, and we believe with mmuch originality, of the facial-muscles of thhis clnss of quadrupeds, in his ' Anntomy of lDspression,''--We slall offer a few estracts, by which the render will perceive how limited are their powers of expression of countenance, when compared with those of human nnture, notwithistnndiug their superiority over all other quadrupeds, The yiolent passions mark themselves so distinctly on the countenances both of men and of nnimals, that we are apt in the first instnnce to consider the movements by which they are indicnted, as certnin signs or characters provided by Nntnre, for the express purpose of intimating the internal emotion ; and to suppose that they are interpreted by the observer in consequence of a peculiar and instinctive faculty, This view of things, however, so nutural at first sight, is not altogether satisfactory to philosoply; and a more jealous observation of the facts, seems to suggest |
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| CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS. 7 an opposite theory, in which instinctive agency is rejected, and the appearances are explained from a consideration of the necessities and voluntary exertions of the animal. With regard to the observer, it has been asserted, that it is by experience alone that he distinguishes the signs of the passions; that we learn, while infants, to consider smiles as expressions of kindness, because they are accompanied by acts of beneficence and by endearments; and frowns as the contrary, because we find them followed by blows; that the expression of anger in a brute, is only that which has been observed to precede his biting; and that of fondness, his fawning and licking of the hand. With regard to the creature itself, it is said, what has been called the external signs of passion, are merely the concomitants of those voluntary movements, which the passions or habits suggest; that the glare of the Lion’s eye, for example, is the consequence of a voluntary exertion to see his prey more clearly—his grin, or snarl, the natural motion of uncasing his fangs before he uses them. This, however, is not quite true of all animals and of all expression of passion.” “Attending merely to the evidence furnished by anatomical investigation, all that I shall venture to affirm is this: that a remarkable difference is to be found between the anatomy and range of expression, in man and in animals: that in the former there seems to be a systematic provision for that mode of communication and that natural language, which is to be read in the changes of the countenance: that there is no emotion in the mind of man which has not its appropriate signs; and that there are even muscles in the human face to which no other use can be assigned than to serve as the organs of this language: that, on the other hand, there is in the lower animals no range of expression which is not fairly referable as a mere accessary to the voluntary or needful actions of the animal; and that this accessary expression does not appear to be in any degree commensurate to the variety and extent of the animal’s passions.” “There appears to me (continues Mr. Bell) to be no expression in the face of any animal lower in the scale of being than quadrupeds; and in them the strongest and most marked expression is that of rage; the object of which is opposition, resistance, and defence. But on examination it will be found (consistently with the position, that this is merely an accessary of the motions natural to the accomplishment of the object which the animal has in view) that the strength of the expression is in exact proportion to the strength of the principal action in the creature when thus excited. “The gramnivorous animals, which seek their subsistence, not by preying upon others, nor by the ferocity, contest, and victory which supply the carnivorous with food, have in their features no strong expression of rage. Their expression is chiefly confined indeed to the effect produced on the general system. Thus the inflamed eye and the breathing nostrils of the Bull, are induced only by the general excitement. His only proper expression of rage, is in the position of the head, with the horns turned obliquely to the ground, ready to strike: and indeed it may be observed in general that animals which strike with the horns, shew little indication of fear or rage, except in | CATNIVOIOUS QUADRUPEDS. an opposite theory, in which instinctive agency is rejected, and the appearances are explnined from a consideration of the necessities and voluntary exertions of the animal, With regnrd to the observer, it has been nsserted, that it is by experience alone that he distinguishes the signs of the passions ; that we learn, while infants, to consider smiles as expressions of kindness, because they are accompanied by acts of beneficence nnd by endearmeuts; and frowns as the contrary, because we find them followed by blows ; that the expression of anger iu a brute, is only that which hns been observed to precede his biting ; and thut of fondness, his fawning and licking of the hiand. WVith regard to the crenture itself, it is said, whnt has been called the external signs of passion, are merely the concomitnnts of those voluntary movements, which the passions or habits suggest; that the glnre of the Lion's eye, for example, is the consequence of a voluntary exertion to see his prey more clearly-his grin, or snarl, the natural motion of uncasing lis fangs before he uses them. This, however, is not quite true of all animals and of all espression of passion,'' '%Attendiug merely to the evidence furnished by anatomical investigation, all thint I shnll venture to nffirmm is thiis: that a remarkable difference is to be found between the anatomy and range of expression, in man and in nnimals : that in the former there seems to be a systematic provision for that mode of communication nnd that natural langunge, which is to be read in the changes of the countenance : that thhere is no emotion in the mind of man whichh hns not its appropriate signs; and that there are even muscles in thhe human face to wlich no other use can be assigned thnan to serve as the organs of thhis langunge; that, on the other hand, there is in the lower animals no range of expression which is not fairly referable as a mere accessnry to the volnntary or needful nctions of thhe nnimal; and that thiis nccessnry espression does not appear to be iuu any degree commensurate to the variety and estent of the animals passions,'' There appears to me (continues MIi. lßELL) to be no expression in the face of any animal lower in the scale of being thian quadrupeds; and in them thhe strongest and most marked expression is that of rage; thhe object of which is opposition, resistance, and defence, But on exaninntion it will be found (consistently with the position, thiat thiis is merely an accessnry of the motions natural to thhe accomplishment of the object which thie animal hias in view) that the strength of the expression is in exact proportion to the strength of thie principal nction in the creature wlien thhus excited. 'The gramnivorous animals, which seek their subsistence, not by preying upon othners, nor by the ferocity, contest, aand victory wlich supply the carnivorous with food, have in thheir features no strong expression of rage. Their espression is chiefly confined indeed to the effect produced on the general system. Thus thhe iiuflamed eye and the breathing nostrils of the Bull, are iuduced ouly by the general excitement. His only proper espression of rage, is in the position of the hend, with the horns turned obliquely to the ground, ready to strike : nnd indeed it may be observed in general that animals which strile with the horns, shew little indication of fear or rage, except in |
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| 8 CARNIVOROUS QUADRUPEDS the position of the head. In all gramnivorous animals, the skin of the head is closely attached to the skull, and capable only of very limited motion: the eye is almost uniformly mild, and the lips unmoved by passion. “It is in carnivorous animals, with whose habits and manner of life, ferocity is instinctively connected, as the great means of their subsistence, that rage is distinguished by the most remarkable strength of expression. The eye-ball is terrible, and the retraction of the flesh of the lips indicates the most savage fury. But the first, is merely the exerted attention of the animal; and the other a preparatory exposure of the canine teeth. The great animals of prey—the Lion and the Tiger—are quite incapable of any other expression of feature, than this particular display of ferociousness. When they fawn upon their keeper, there is no motion in their features that indicates affection.” In this assertion, that the countenances of the great animals of prey are incapable of any other than ferocious expression, we do not quite coincide with our learned physiologist. When they fawn upon their keeper, we think that indications of affection are exhibited; and find ourselves ready to ask what else than kindly expression is that “licking of the hand” which our author has before mentioned. If, however, we should grant that they may not be capable of affectionate expression toward their keeper, we can scarcely doubt that—toward their young—if we could observe them in their wild state, and in their moments of playful intercourse and enjoyment among each other—they are: at least, we think there are motions in their features that indicate affection, as well as fear, enquiry, surprise, gratitude, pleasurable wantonness, and some other sentiments, or emotions. This is our conviction: at the same time, we perceive that the range of their ferocious expression far exceeds the savage circle of their domestic charities. Are not even the least of these observable in the habits and manners of the domestic Cat, who belongs to the Tiger genera? But we have even seen a Tiger in his den, who looked good-natured enough to be stroked and patted: and of the Lion, of whom Mr. Griffith relates the following anecdote, what can be said or thought? “Hearing some noise under his cage, the Lion passed his paw between the bars, and actually hauled up his keeper who was cleaning beneath; but as soon as he perceived that he had thus ill used his master, he instantly lay down upon his back in an attitude of complete submission.” Or what can be said of the circumstance mentioned by Seneca (of which he was personally witness), of a Lion, to whom a man, who had formerly been his keeper, was exposed for destruction in the amphitheatre at Rome; and who was not only instantly recognised, but defended and protected by the grateful beast?—Or of the story related by Dr. Southey, of the Lion who had broken loose, submitting to the Cid, and allowing himself to be led back peaceably to his place of confinement? ould any painter of talent proceed to represent either of these facts, without finding in the | CARNIvOTOUS QUADRUPEDS. the position of the head. In nll gramnivorous animals, the skin of the head is closely attnched to the skull, and capable only of very limited motion: the eye is nlmost uniformly mild, nnd the lips unmoved by passion. It is in carnivorous animals, with whose habits and manner of life, ferocity is instinctively connectbd, as the great means of their subsistence, that rage is distinguished by the most remarknble strength of expression. The eye-bnll is terrible, and the retraction of the flesh of the lips indicates the most savnge fary, But the first, is merely the exerted attention of the animal; and the other a preparatory exposure of the canine teeth. The great animals of prey -the Lion nnd the Tiger-are quite incapnble of any other espression of fenture, than this partieulnr display of ferociousness, When they fwn upon thheir keeper, there is no motion in their features thnt. indicates affection.'' In this assertion, that the countenances of the great animals of prey are incapable of any other than ferocious expression, we do not quite coincide with our learned physiologist, When they fnwn upon their keeper, we think that indicntions of nffection are exhibited ; and find ourselves ready to ask what else than kindly expression is thnt '%licking of the hand'' which our nuthior has before mentioned. If, however, we should grant that they may not be cnpable of nffectionate expression townrd their keeper, we cnn scnrcely doubt thiat-townrd their young -if we could obserye them in their wild stnte, and in thheir moments of plnyful intercourse nnd enjoyment among each other-they are: at lcast, we think there nre motions in their fentures thnt indicate nffection, as well ns fear, enquiry, surprise, gratitude, pleasurable wantonness, and some other sentiments, or emotions, This is our conviction : nt thhe snme time, we perceive that the rnnge of their ferocious expression fnr exceeds the savnge circle of their domestic charities. Are not even the least of these observable in the habits nnd manners of the domestic Cat, whio belongs to the Tiger genera? lBut we hnve even seen a Tiger in his den, who looked good-natured enough to be stroked and pntted : nnd of the Lion, of whom M. GRFT relntes the following anecdote, what cnn be snid or thought? '%Hearing some noise under his cnge, the Lion pnssed hhis pnw between the bars, and actunlly hauled up his keeper who was cleaning beneath ; but as soon as he perceived that he had thus ill used his mnster, he instnntly lny down upon his back in nn nttitude of complete submission,'' Or what cnn be snid of the circumstance mentioned by SENECA (of which he was persontnlly witness), of n Lion, to whom a man, who hnd formerly been his keeper, was exposed for destruction i the amplithentre nt Iome; and who was not only instantly recognised, but defended nnd protected by the grateful benst?-Or of the story related by Dn, SovTuEY, of the Lion who hnd . broken loose, submitting to the Cid, and allowiug himself to be led back peaceably to lis place of confinement? Could any painter of tnlent proceed to represent either of these facts, without finding in the |
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| PROLOGUE THE HORSES OF KING MANUS As for the youth who had tried to steal the white horse that the King owned, he was bound hand and foot and taken into the castle of the King. There he was thrown down beside the trestles of the great table, and the hot wax from the candles that lighted the supper board dripped down upon him. And it was told to him that at the morrow’s sunrise he would be slain with the sword. Then the King called upon one to finish the story that was being told when the neigh of the white horse was heard in the stable. The story could not be finished for him, however, because the one who had been telling it was now outside, guarding the iron door of the stable with a sword in his hand. And King Manus, sitting at the supper board, could not eat nor refresh himself because there was no one at hand to finish the story for him. 11 | PROLOGUE THE HORSES OF KING MANUS As for the youth who had tried to steal the white horse that the King owned, he was bound hand and foot and taken into the castle of the King. There he was thrown down beside the trestles of the great table, and the hot wax from the candles that lighted the supper board dripped down upon him. And it was told to hitm that at the morrow's sunrise he would be slain with the sword. Then the King called upon one to finish the story that was being told when the neigh of the white horse was heard in the stable. The story could not be finished for him, however, because the one who had been telling it was now outside, guarding the iron door of the stable with a sword in his hand. And King Manus, sitting at the supper board, could not eat nor refresh himself because there was no one at hand to finish the story for him. |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER And that is the way that the story of The Boy Apprenticed to an Enchanter used to begin. But first I shall have to tell you about King Manus and his three horses. King Manus ruled over the Western Island, and he had a castle that was neither higher nor wider than any other King’s castle. But he had a stable that was more strongly built than any other King’s stable. It had double walls of stone; it had oak beams; it had an iron door with four locks to it. And before this door two soldiers with drawn swords in their hands stayed night and day. In those days, if one went before a King and asked him for a gift the King might not refuse to give what was asked of him. But King Manus was hard to come to by those with requests. For before the chamber where he sat or slept there stood a servant to take the request, and if it were one that might not be brought to him, to make an excuse for the King. It was all because of the King’s three horses—a white horse, a red horse, and a black horse. The white horse was as swift as the plunging wave 12 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER And that is the way that the story of The Boy AApprenticed to an Enchanter used to begin. But first I shall have to tell you about King Manus and his thiree horses. King Manus ruled over the Western Island, and he had a castle that was neither higher nor wider than any other King's castle. But he had a stable that was more strongly built than any other King's stable. It had double walls of stone; it had oak beams; it had an iron door with four locks to it. And before this door two soldiers with drawn swords in their hands stayed night and day. In those days, if one went before a King and asked him for a gift the King might not refuse to give what was asked of him. But King Manus was hard to come to by those with requests, For before the chamber where he sat or slept there stood a servant to take the request, and if it were one that might not be brought to hidm, to make an excuse for the King. It wns all because of the King's three horses - a white horse, a rcd horse, and a black horse. The white horse was as swift as the plunging wave |
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| THE HORSES OF KING MANUS f the sea, the red horse was as swift as fire in the heather, and the speed of the black horse was such that he could overtake the wind of March that was before him, and the wind of March that was behind could not overtake him. Many had tried to get one of the King’s horses by request or by robbery. But those who would ask for a gift were kept away from the King, while the stone walls, double thick, with the door of iron with four locks to it, kept robbers outside. Besides there were the two soldiers with drawn swords in their hands to prevent the horses being taken out of the stable by any one except their own grooms. And so it was thought very certain that King Manus would never lose his famous horses. But this very night, when the King and his lords were at supper, the neigh of a horse in the stable was heard. Then it was that the story-teller stopped in his story. The trampling of a horse was heard. Straight out King Manus ran, and his harper and his story-teller and his lords ran with him. When they came to the stable they saw that the two soldiers were sitting before the 13 | THE HORSES OF EING MANUS of the sea, the red horse was as swift as fire in the heather, and the speed of the black horse was such that he could overtake the wind of March that was before him, and the wind of March that was behind could not overtake him. Many had tried to get one of the King's horses by request or by robbery, But those who would ask for a gift were kept away from the King, wwhile the stone walls, double thick, with the door of iron with four locks to it, kept robbers outside. Besides there were the two soldiers with drawn swords in their hands to prevent the horses being taken out of the stable by any one except their own grooms, And so it was thought very certain that King Manus would neverlose his fadmous horses, But this very night, whnen the King and his lords were at supper, the neigh of a horse in the stable was heard. Then it was that the story- teller stopped in his story, The trampling of a horse was heard. Straight out King MIanus ran, and his harper and his story-teller and his lords ran with hium. When they came to the stable they saw that the two soldiers were sitting before the |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER iron door fast asleep, with the swords on the ground before them. And the locks were off the door of iron. Just as they came there the iron door of the stable opened and the King’s white horse was led out. He who had the rein was a strange youth dressed in a foreign dress. The youth was about to spring on the horse’s back when those who were with the King sprang upon him and held him and held the bridle of the horse. And having secured the youth they went into the stable, and they found the red horse and the black horse eating at their mangers. They led the white horse back and put him in his own stall. The watchers who had been before the stable door could not be wakened, so those who were with the King carried them to another place, and left two others, the harper and the story-teller, to keep watch, with the soldiers’ swords in their hands. As for the youth who had tried to steal the white horse, he was placed as has been told you, and every one there knew what doom would befall him. 14 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER iron door fast asleep, with the swords on the ground before them. And the locks were off the door of iron. Just as they came there the iron door of the stable opened and the King's white horse was led out. He who had the rein was a strange youth dressed in a foreign dress, The youth was about to spring on the horse's back when thhose who were with the King sprang upon him and held him and held the bridle of the horse. And having secured the youth they went into the stable, and they found the red horse and the black horse eating at their mangers, They led the white horse back and put hidm in his own stall. The watchers who had been before the stable door could not be wakened, so those who were with the King carried them to another place, and left two others, the harper and the story-teller, to keep watch, with the soldiers' swords in their hands, As for the youth who had tried to steal the white horse, he was placed as has been told you, and every one there knew what doom would befall him. |
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| THE HORSES OF KING MANUS It was then that the King called upon one to finish the story that was being told him when the white horse neighed. It was then that he sat at the supper board, not able to take rest nor refreshment on account of his not having heard the story to its end. And it was then that one of the lords said to the King, “Let the youth who is lying bound beside the trestles of the table tell us what it was that made him go into such danger to steal one of the horses of King Manus.” The King liked that saying, and he said, “Since my story-teller abides outside guarding the door of the stable, I will have this youth tell us the story of why he entered into such danger to steal one of my horses. And more than that. I declare that if he shows us that he was ever in greater danger than he is in this night I shall give him his life. But if it is not so shown the story he tells will avail him nothing, and he shall perish by the sword at the morrow’s sunrise.” Then the youth was taken from where he lay by the trestles of the table, and the cords that bound him were loosened. He was put in the 15 | THE HORSES OF EEING MANUS It was then that the Eing called upon one to finish the story that was being told him when the white horse neighed. It was then that he sat at the supper board, not able to take rest nor refreshment on account of his not having heard the story to its end. And it was then that one of the lords said to the King,''Let the youth who is lying bound beside the trestles of the table tell us what it wwas that made him go into such danger to steal one of the horses of King MIanus,'' The King liked that saying, and he said, ''Since my story-teller abides outside guarding the door of the stable,I will hnve this youth tell us the story of why he entered into such danger to steal one of my horses, And more than that. I declare that if he shows us that he was ever in greater danger than he is in this night I shall give him his life. But if it is not so shown the story he tells will avail him nothing, and he shall perish by the sword at the morrow's sunrise,'' Then the youth was taken from where he lay by the trestles of the tnble, and the cords that bound him were loosened. He was put in the |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER story-teller’s place and fresh candles were lighted and set upon the table. “Your danger is great,” said the King, “and it will be hard for you to show us that you were ever in such danger before. Begin your story. And if it is not a story of a narrow and a close escape there will be little time left for you to prepare for your death by the sword.” Thereupon the youth in the foreign dress looked long into the wine cup that was handed him, and he drank a draught of the wine, and he saluted the King and the lords who sat by the King, and he said: “Once I was in greater danger, for its mouth was close to me, and no hope whatever was given me of my saving my life. I will tell the story, and you shall judge whether my danger then was greater than is my danger now.” And thereupon the youth in the foreign dress, who had tried to steal the white horse that King Manus owned, began the story which is set down here in the very words in which he told it. 16 | THE BOY APRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER story-teller's place and freshh candles were lighted and set upon the table. ''Your danger is great,'' said the King, ''and it will be hard for you to show us that you were ever in such danger before. Begin your story. And if it is not a story of a narrow and a close escape there will be little time left for you to pre- pare for your death by the sword,'' Thereupon the youth in the foreign dress looked long into the wine cup that was handed him, and he drank a draught of the wine, and he saluted the King and the lords who sat by the King, and he said : ''Once I was in greater danger, for its mouth was close to me, and no hope whatever was given me of my saving my life, I will tell the story, and you shall judge whether my danger then was greater than is my danger now,'' And thereupon the youthh in the foreign dress, who had tried to steal the white horse that King Manus owned, began the story which is set down here in the very words in which he told it. |
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| PART I THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN’S SON I. The Coming of the Enchanter My father (said the youth) was a fisherman, and he lived on this Western Island. It may be that he is still living here. His name was Anluan, and he was very poor. My own name is Eean, and the event that begins my story took place when I was twice seven years of age. My father and I had gone down to the shore of the Western Ocean. He was fishing in the pools of the sea, and I was putting willow rods into the mouths of the fish caught so that I might carry them in my hands to the market that very day and sell them there. I looked out and saw a speck upon the water, a speck that came nearer. I kept watching it while my father dragged the pool with his net. The speck became a boat, and the boat 19 | PART I THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON I. TE Coxna or Tmr ENcnnaNTER My father (said the youth) was a fisherman, and he lived on this Western Islnnd. It may be that he is still living here. His name was Anluan, and he was very poor, My own name is Eean, and the event that begins my story took place when I was twice seven years of age. My father and I had gone down to the shore of the Western Ocean. He was fishing in the pools of the sea, and I was putting willow rods into the mouths of the fish caught so that I might carry them in my hands to the market that very day and sell them there. I looked out and saw a speck upon the water, a speck that came nearer, I kept watching it while my father dragged the pool with his net. The speck became a boat, and the boat |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER came on without sails or oars. It was a shining boat, a boat of brass. I called to my father and my father straightened himself up and watched it. In the boat that came toward us of its own accord there was a man standing. The boat came into the full water between the rocks, and then it sank down, this boat of brass, until its rim touched the water. It remained still as if anchored. The man who was in the prow of the boat stepped out on the sand between my father and me. He looked a man of high degree—like a prince or a potentate. He had a dark face and a dark, curly beard, and he had eyes that were like hawks’ eyes. He had on a straight coat of a blue material covered all over with curious figures, and in his hand he held a long polished staff that had the shape of two serpents twisting together. He looked at me and I was frightened of him, and I turned to my father. But my father was standing there, holding the fishing pole in his hands, his mouth open, gasping like one of the fishes upon the rocks. 20 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER came on without sails or oars, It was a shining boat, a boat of brass, I called to my father and my father straightened himself up and watched it. In the boat that came toward us of its own accord there was man standing. The boat came into the full water between the rocks, and then it sank down, this boat of brass,un- til its rim touched the water. It remained still as if anchored. The man who was in the prow of the boat stepped out on the sand between my father and me. He looked a man of high degree - like a prince or a potentate. He had a dark face and a dark, curly beard, and he had eyes that were like hawks' eyes, He had on a straight coat of a blue material covered all over with curious figures, and in his hand he held a long polishhed stnff that had the shape of two serpents twisting to- gether. He looked at me and I was frightened of hitm, and I turned to my father. But my father was standing there, holding the fishing pole in his hands, his mouth open, gasping like one of the fishes upon the rocks. |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON The stranger looked me over again—looked me over from my feet to my head, and then he said to my father, “There is no need that he should do aught about these fishes. I have need of an apprentice, and it would be well for you both if he should come with me.” My father then found his voice, and he said, “If my son does not sell these fishes in the market to-day he cannot bring back the bag of meal for our household.” Said the man from the strange boat, “Bring me to your house and I shall put down gold for every copper that your son would get in the market.” My father made a sign to me to throw the fishes back into the water. This I did, but I did it fearfully. And then my father stepped out of the pool of the sea and he made a sign to the stranger to follow us. We walked from the seashore and up the path of the cliffs, and we went through the heather of the headlands, following the goat tracks till we came to the wattled house where we lived. The man from the strange boat followed my father, and I came last of all. And when 21 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON The stranger looked me over again -- looked me over from my feet to my head, and then he said to my father, ''There is no need that he should do aught about these fishes. I have need of an apprentice, and it would be well for you both if he should come with me,'' My father then found his voice, and he said, ''If my son does not sell these fishes in the market to-day he cannot bring back the bag of meal for our household,'' Said the man frodm the strange boat, ''Bring me to your house and I shall put down gold for every copper that your son would get in the market.'' My father made a sign to me to throw the fishes back into the water. This I did, but I did it fearfully. And then my father stepped out of the pool of the sea and he made a sign to the stranger to follow us, We walked from the seashore and up the path of the cliffs, and we went through the heather of the headlands, following the goat tracks till we came to the wattled house where we lived. The man from the strange boat followed my father, and I came last of all. And when |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER I went in and stood on the floor of our house my heart was thumping within me at the thought of what was before. And there was the pot boiling over the fire with a few green herbs in it. There was Saba, my mother, stirring the last handful of meal amongst the green herbs. And there were my brothers, all older than I, sitting by the fire, waiting for the herbs and the meal to be ready. When my mother looked toward us she saw the man from the strange boat. She thought that some crime had been committed by me or my father to bring a man of such high degree amongst us. She and my brothers were greatly afraid, for they were poor, and those who were high were harsh to them. But the stranger spoke softly, saying, “Good fortune has come to you from the sea to-day.” And when they all turned toward him he said, “I who am very knowledgeable will take your son with me as an apprentice, and I shall instruct him in arts and crafts and mysteries.” My mother said, “The boy is young, sir, and we thought he would be with us for a time longer.” 22 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER I went in and stood on the floor of our house my heart was thumping within me at the thought of whnt was before. And there was the pot boiling over the fire with a few green herbs in it. There was Saba, my mother, stirring the last handful of meal amongst the green herbs, And there were my brothers, all older than I, sitting by the fire, waiting for the herbs and the meal to be ready. When my mother looked toward us she saw the man from the strange boat. She thought that some crime had been committed by me or my father to bring a man of such hhigh degree amongst us. She and my brothers were greatly afraid, for they were poor, and those who were high were harsh to thedm. But the stranger spoke softly, saying, ''Good fortune has come to you from the sea to-day,'' And when they all turned toward him he said, ''I who am very knowledgeable will take your son with me as an apprentice, and I slall instruct him in arts and crafts and mysteries,'' MIy mother said, ''The boy is young, sir, and we thought he would be with us for a titme longer,'' |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON But the man from the strange boat said, “I would not take him to instruct him in arts and crafts and mysteries if he were a day older than he is now.” He said no more, but he went to the table and he laid down on it piece after piece of shining gold. My father went to the table and held his hands around the gold. My mother looked on me who was just twice seven years old that day. I know she thought that she could never bear to part with me. But then she looked on her other sons, and she saw that they were men grown, and she thought they should have more to eat than the meal and the green herbs that were in the pot. She threw her arms around me and I knew it was a last clasp. “He will have to go into far places to learn the arts and crafts and mysteries that I would teach him,” the stranger said. “Will he ever come back to me?” cried my mother. “He will come back to you when his cunning baffles my cunning,” was what the stranger said. My father took the gold that was on the table and made it into a heap. My mother took her 23 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON But the man frotm the strange boat said, ''I would not take him to instruct him in arts and crafts nnd mysteries if he were a day older than he is now,'' He said no more, but he went to the table and he laid down on it piece after piece of shining gold. My father went to the table and held his hands around the gold, My mother looked on me who was just twice seven years old that day, I know she thought that she could never bear to part with me, But then she looked on her other sons, and she saw that they were men grown, and she thought they should have more to eat than the meal and the green herbs that were in the pot, She threw her arms around me and I knew it was a last clasp. ''He will have to go into far plnces to learn the arts and crafts and mysteries that I would teach him,'' the stranger said. ''WiIl e ever come back to me?'' cried my mother. ''He will come back to you when his cunning baffles my cunning,'' was what the stranger said. My father took the gold that was on the table and made it into a heap. My mother took her |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER arms from around my neck, and my brothers kissed me farewell. Then the man from the strange boat opened the door of our wattled house and went out, and I followed him. We did not go back to the place where he had left his boat of brass. We went to another place where there was a harbor with ships. There we found a ship ready to sail for Urth. My master sent me on board to ask the captain if he would take us on a voyage beyond Urth. The captain said that if my master would guide them past the Magnetberg he would give him the ship to sail where he would after the cargo had been landed. My master said he would do this, and we went on board the ship. It was evening now, and a breeze came up, and the ship sailed away, bringing me from the place where I was born and reared and toward the strange countries that were beyond the rim of the sea. I asked one of the sailors what was the Magnetberg, and he told me that it was a mountain of loadstone that drew the iron out of ships that came near it and left them loosened timbers upon the water. 24 | THE BOY APTRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER arms from around my neck, and my brothers kissed me farewell, Then the man from the strange boat opened the door of our wattled house and went out, and I followed him. We did not go back to the place where he had left his boat of brass, We went to another place where there was a harbor with ships, There we found a ship ready to sail for Urth, My master sent me on board to ask the cap- tain if he would take us on a voyage beyond Urth. Thhe captain said that if my master would guide them past the Magnetberg he would give hitm the ship to sail where he would after the cargo had been landed. My master said he would do this, and we went on board the ship. It was evening now, and a breeze came up, and the ship sailed away, bringing me frodm the place where I was born and reared and toward the strange countries that were beyond the rim of the sea. I asked one of the sailors what was the Magnetberg, and he told me that it was a mountain of loadstone that drew the iron out of ships that came near it and left them loosened timbers upon the water. |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON II. The Inaccessible Island You have heard me so far, O King. Know now that the one to whom I was apprenticed was an Enchanter. His name is Zabulun, and in all the world there are only three Enchanters more powerful than he. The first is Chiron the Centaur, who is half man and half horse, and who taught Achilles and made him the greatest of the princes who had gone against Troy. The second is Hermes Trismegistus, the wise Egyptian. And the third is Merlin the Enchanter, whose home is in an island that is west of your Western Island. When the night came on, Zabulun took the steering gear into his hands, and he steered the ship by a star that he alone knew. When the morning came we saw on the sea all around us the masts and the spars and the timbers of ships that had come too near the Magnetberg, and that had lost their nails and bolts, and had become loosened timbers on the waters. Those on the ship were greatly afraid, and the captain walked up and 25 | TIE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON II. TE INaccEssBLE IsuANn You have heard me so far, O King. Know now that the one to whom II was apprenticed was an Enchanter. His name is Zabulun, and in all the world there are only three Enchanters more powerful than he. The first is Chiron the Cen- taur, who is half man and half horse, and who taught Achilles and made him the greatest of the princes who had gone against Troy. The second is Hermes Trismegistus, the wise Egyptian. And the third is Merlin the Enchanter, whose home is in an island that is west of your Western Island. When the night came on, Zabulun took the steering gear into his hands, and he steered the ship by a star that he alone knew. When the morning came we saw on the sea all around us the masts and the spars and the timbers of ships that had come too near the Magnetberg, and that had lost their nails and bolts, and had become loosened timbers on the waters, Those on the ship were greatly afraid, and the captain walked up and |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER own, pulling at his beard. The night came on, and again my master took the steering gear into his own hands and steered the ship by a star that he alone knew of. And when the morning came there were no masts and spars of ships, and no loosened timbers afloat on the waters. The captain laughed and made all on the ship rejoice that they had passed the dangerous neighborhood of the Magnetberg—that mountain of loadstone that drew the iron out of ships as a magnet draws pins on a table. We came to Urth. The great cargo that was on the ship was for the King of Urth, and it was taken off and sent over the mountain to the King’s city in packs that the sailors carried on their backs. Then the captain gave the ship over to my master to sail it where he would. He did not come upon the land nor did he look upon the country at all. But when the last pack had been carried off the ship, he said to me: “You will have to do this, my first command to you. Go on the land. Stay by a pool that is close to the forest. Birds will come down to that 26 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCIANTER down, pulling at his beard. The night came on, and again my master took the steering gear into his own hands and steered the ship by a star that he alone knew of, And when the morning came there were no masts and spars of shiips, and no loosened timbers afloat on the waters, The captain laughed and made all on the ship re- joice that they had passed the dangerous neighbor- hood of the Magnetberg - that mountain of loadstone that drew the iron out of ships as a magnet draws pins on a table. We came to Urth. The great cargo that was on the ship was for the King of Urth, and it was taken off and sent over the mountain to the King's city in packs that the sailors carried on their backs. Then the captain gave the ship over to my master to sail it where he would. He did not come upon thhe land nor did he look upon the country at all, But when the last pack had been carried off the ship, he said to me: ''You will have to do this, my first command to you. Go on the land. Stay by a pool that is close to the forest. Birds will come down to that |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON pool—birds of the whiteness of swans, but smaller. Set snares and catch some of these birds, not less than four, and bring them to me uninjured.� And I went on the land and came to the pool that was close to the forest. And there I saw the birds that were of the whiteness of swans, but smaller. I watched them for a while so that I might know their ways. Then I made a crib of rods and set it to catch the birds. One went under the crib, and I pulled the string and caught the first bird. And then, hours afterward, I caught another. And waiting and watching very carefully, I caught a third. The fourth bird was wary, and I feared I should not catch it, for night was coming down and the birds were making flocks to fly away. One remained near the crib, and its neck was stretched toward it. But then it shook its wings, and I thought it was going to fly to the others. It went under the crib. Then I pulled the string and caught the fourth bird. I brought the birds to the ship and my master gave them grains to feed on. At night we sailed away. My master held the steering gear while it 27 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON pool - birds of the whiteness of swans, but smaller. Set snares and catch some of these birds, not less than four, and bring them to me uninjured.'' And I went on the land and came to the pool that was close to the forest. And there I saw the birds that were of the whiteness of swans, but smaller, I watched them for a while so that I might know their ways, Then I made a crib of rods and set it to catch the birds, One went under the crib, and I pulled the string and caught the first bird. And then, hours afterward, I caught another. And waiting and watching very care- fully, I caught a third. The fourth bird was wary, and I feared I should not catch it, for night was coming down and the birds were making flocks to fly away. One remained near the crib, and its neck was stretched toward it. But then it shook its wings, and I thought it was going to fly to the others, It went under the crib. Then I pulled the string and caught the fourth bird. I brought the birds to the ship and my master gave them grains to feed on. At night we sailed away. My master held the steering gear while it |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER was dark, but when light came he gave it to me to hold. Then he unloosed one of the birds. It flew in the middle distance, winging slowly, and remaining a long time in sight. He told me to hold the course of the ship to the flight of the bird. At night he took the steering gear again into his hands and held the ship on her course. In the daylight he unloosed another bird and bade me steer by its flight. And this was done for two more days. The morning after the last of the white birds had been freed my master bade me look out for land. I saw something low upon the water. “It is the Inaccessible Island,” said my master, “where I have my dwelling and my working place.” He steered the ship to where the water flowed swiftly into a great cave that was like a dragon’s mouth. In that cave there was a place for the mooring of ships. The Enchanter moored the ship in its place, and then he took me up the rocky landing place. There was a flight of great steps leading from 28 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER was dark, but when light came he gave it to me to hold. Then he unloosed one of the birds, It flew in the middle distance, winging slowly, and remaining a long time in sight. He told me to hold the course of the ship to the flight of the bird. At night he took the steering gear again into his hands and held the ship on her course. In the daylight he unloosed another bird and bade me steer by its flight. And this was done for two 1more days, The morning after the last of the white birds had been freed my master bade me look out for land. I saw something low upon the water. ''I is the Inaccessible Island,'' said my master, ''where I have my dwelling and my working place,'' He steered the ship to where the water flowed swiftly into a great cave that was like a dragon's mouth. In that cave there was a place for the mooring of ships, The Enchanter moored the ship in its place,and then he took me up the rocky ''2TCC7.+-=-==+ |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON the landing place—it was in a cave as I have told you—up to the light of day. There were a thousand wide black steps in that flight. The Enchanter took into his hands the black staff that was shaped as two serpents twisting together, and he took me with him up the stairway. We came out on a level place and I saw a high castle before me. There was no wall around the castle, and there was no gate to be opened. But when I came near it I found I could take no step onward. I went up, and I went down, and I tried to go onward, but I could not. Then Zabulun the Enchanter said to me: “Around this castle of mine is a wall of air. No one can see the wall, but no one can pass it. And a bridge of air crosses my wall of air. Come now with me and I will take you over the bridge.” As the wall of air that went round the Enchanter’s castle was not to be seen, neither was the bridge that went across the wall of air. But I saw my master mounting up and walking across as on a bridge. And although I saw 29 | TIE STORY OF EEAN TIE FISHERMAN'S SON the landing place - it was in a cave as I have told you --- up to the light of day, There were a thousand wide black steps in that flight. The Enchanter took into his hands the black staff that was shaped as two serpents twisting together, and he took me with hitm up the stairway. We came out on a level place and I saw a high castle before me. There was no wall around the castle, and there was no gate to be opened. But when I came near it I found I could take no step onward. I went up, and I went down, and I tried to go onward, but I could not. Then Zabulun the Enchanter said to me: ''Around this castle of mine is a wall of air, No one can see the wall, but no one can pass it. And a bridge of air crosses my wall of air, Come now with me and I will take you over the bridge.'' As the wall of air that went round the En- chanter's castle was not to be seen, neither was the bridge that went across the wall of air, But I saw my master mounting up and walking across as on a bridge. And although I saw |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER nothing before me nor beneath me, I mounted upon something and walked across something. Following him I went downward and into the courtyard of the castle. Within that courtyard there was a horse of brass with a giant man of brass upon it, the giant man holding a great bow in his hands. My master said to me, “If one came over the bridge of air without my authority, the arrow of that bow would be loosened, and he who came across the bridge would be slain by this giant man of brass.� We went within the castle. In the hall were benches and tables, and there were statues holding torches in their hands standing by the wall. Also in that hall there was the statue of a woman holding a dart in her hand. When my master came within, the statue that held the dart flung it, and the dart struck a gleaming carbuncle that was in the wall. Lights came into the torches that the statues held, and all the hall was lighted up. I sat with my master at a table, and the statues moved to us, bringing us wine and fruits. We ate and drank, and afterward a golden figure came to 30 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER nothing before me nor beneath me, I umounted upon something and walked across something. Following hitm I went downward and into the courtyard of the castle. Within that courtyard there was a horse of brass with a giant man of brass upon it, the giant man holding a great bow in his hands, MIy master said to me, ''If one came over the bridge of air without my authority, the arrow of that bow would be loosened, and he who came across the bridge would be slain by this giant man of brass,'' We went within the castle. In the hall were benches and tables, and there were statues holding torches in their hands standing by the wall. Also in that hall there was the statue of a woman holding a dart in her hand. When my master came within, the statue that held the dart flung it, and the dart struck a gleaming carbuncle that was in the ' wall. Lights came into the torches that the statues held, and all the hall was lighted up. I sat with my master at a table, and the statues moved to us, bringing us wine and fruits, We nte and drank, and afterward a golden figure came to |
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| THE STORY OF THE EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON the Enchanter, and, sitting down before him, played a game of chess with him. The next day my master showed me more of the wonders of the Inaccessible Island. No ships came near, for there was no way to come to that island except by following the birds that were of the whiteness of a swan and that flew always in the middle distance. On this island Zabulun the Enchanter had lived for longer than the lifetimes of many men, studying magic and all the ways of enchantment. And for three years I, Eean, the son of the fisherman of the Western Island, stayed with him, learning such things as were proper for one apprenticed to an Enchanter to know. III. The Enchanter Goes to Babylon In the three years that were passed in the Inaccessible Island, nothing that is worth my telling happened, O King. But at the end of the three years my master said to me, “We will leave the Inaccessible Island, for I have a mighty business before me.� And when I asked, “Where do we 31 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON the Enchanter, and, sitting down before him, played a game of chess with hidm. The next day my master showed me more of the wonders of the Inaccessible Island. No ships came near, for there was no way to come to that islnnd escept by following the birds that were of the whiteness of a swan and that flew always in the middle distance. On this island Zabulun the Enchanter had lived for longer than the life- times of many men, studying magic and all the ways of enchantment. And for three years I, IEean, the son of the fisherman of the Western Island, stayed with him, learning such things as were proper for one apprenticed to an IEnchanter to know. . IIUI. TrY ENcHANTER GoEs To BABYLLoN In the three years that were passed in the In- accessible Island, nothing that is worth my telling happened, O King. But at the end of the three years my master said to me, ''We will leave the Inaccessible Island, for I have a mighty business before me,'' And when I asked, ''Where do we |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER go, O master?� he answered, “We go to Babylon.� And then, when it was the first day after the new moon, we descended the black stairway that led into the cave where the waters came. There we found a boat of brass that was like the boat that came to the Western Island on the day when my father and I were fishing in the pools of the sea. We went into that boat of brass, and it took us through the water, steering itself. We rested on lonely islands, and at last we came to a mainland, and there the Enchanter left the boat to sink beneath the water. As travelers then we went on. We came to a town, and there my master bought for himself and me the dresses of merchants. Then we came to the river that flows toward Babylon. Men go down the river in round boats that are made of rods woven together. In every boat a live ass is carried, and when the cargo is landed the boats are broken up, for they cannot go back against the current of the river. And the cargo is loaded on the ass and brought into the market in Babylon. And whatsoever the merchants buy in Babylon is loaded 32 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER go, O master ?'' he answered, ''We go to Babylon,'' And then, when it was the first day after the new moon, we descended the black stairway that led into the cave where the waters came. There we found a boat of brass that was like the boat that came to the Western Island on the day when my father and I were fishing in the pools of the sea. We went into that boat of brass, and it took us through the water, steering itself. WVe rested on lonely islands, and at lnst we came to a main- land, and there the Enchanter left the boat to sink beneath the water. As travelers then we went on, We came to a town, and there my master bought for himself and me the dresses of merchants, Then we came to the river that flows toward Babylon. Men go down the river in round boats that are ummade of rods woven to- gether. In every boat a live ass is carried, and when the cargo is landed the boats nre broken up, for they cannot go back against the current of the river, And the cargo is loaded on the ass and brought into the market in Babylon. And what- soever the merchants buy in Babylon is loaded |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON on the ass, and the ass is driven back over the mountains into the country that they came from, these men. And in such boats we went down the river and came into Babylon. No city in the world is as mighty or as wonderful as Babylon. It has three hundred and sixty-five streets, and in every street there are three hundred and sixty-five palaces, and to every palace there are three hundred and sixty-five steps leading up to its door of gold and ebony. The streets when we came into them were thronged with mighty, black-bearded men. I was much in dread when I stood in those great streets, and looked on the mighty men who went through them. In the center of the city were the palace and the wide-spreading gardens of the King. In those gardens, as my master told me, were one or two of all the beautiful or terrible animals of the world. Those gardens I will speak of again, O King, for it was within them that I came upon the danger that was greater than the danger that I am now in. 33 | THE STORY OF EEAN TIE FISIERMAN'S SON on the ass, and the ass is driven back over the mountains into the country that they came from, these men. And in such boats we went down the river and came into Babylon. No city in the world is as mighty or as wonderful as Babylon. It has three hundred and sixty-five streets, and in every street there are three hundred and sisty-five palaces, and to every palace there are three hundred and sixty-five steps leading up to its door of gold and ebony. The streets when we came into them were thronged with mighty, black-bearded men. I was much in dread when I stood in those great streets, and looked on the mighty men who went through them. In the center of the city were the palace and the wide-spreading gardens of the King. In those gardens, as my master told me, were one or two of all the beautiful or terrible anitmals of the world. Those gardens I will speak of agnin, O Eing, for it was within thedm that I came upon the danger that was greater than the danger that II am now in. |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER But first the Enchanter showed me that great wonder that was near the gardens—the Tower of Babylon. It was a red tower mounting very high into the air. Outside of it there were steps that went round it and to the very top of it—a thousand steps. And on the top of the tower, resting against the Spear of Nimrod, was the Magic Mirror of Babylon. Zabulun the Enchanter made me look to the top, and I was made fearful by looking so high. Oh, that I might tell you, King Manus, of the wonders of the Tower of Babylon! In the shadow of it there slept two mighty ones—the two Genii who guarded Babylon, Harut and Marut they were named. Giant beings they were. As they slept there the beard of each was spread across his mighty chest, and it was a beard so broad that no horse of the mighty horses that the King owned could leap across it. Very great but very old were Harut and Marut, the Genii who guarded Babylon. I was made fearful by looking to the top of the tower. And then I was made still more fearful 34 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER But first the Enchanter showed me that great wonder that was near the gardens - the Tower oof Babylon. It was a red tower mounting very high into the air, Outside of it there were steps that went round it and to the very top of it - a thousand steps, And on the top of the tower, resting against the Spear of Nimrod, was the Magic Mirror of Babylon. Zabulun the IEnchanter made me look to the top, and I was made fearful by looking so high. Oh, that I migbt tell you, King MIanus, of the wonders of the Tower of Babylon ! In the shadow of it there slept two mighty ones --- the two Genii who guarded Babylon, Harut and Marut they were named. Giant beings they were. As they slept there the beard of each was spread across his mighty chest, and it was a beard so broad thnt no horse of the mighty horses that the King owned could leap across it. Very great but very old were Harut and MIarut, the Genii who guarded Babylon. I was made fearful by looking to the top of the tower, And then I was made still more fearful |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON by the words that Zabulun said to me. “We have come here,” he said, “to steal the Magic Mirror of the Babylonians. “It is there on the top of the tower,” said the Enchanter, “resting against the Spear of Nimrod. One looking into that mirror sees all the Kings of the world. The one who threatens Babylon is shown with a spear raised in his hand. And if a King should bring an army against Babylon, the number of its men and the ways by which it comes would be shown in the mirror. The Babylonians, by means of this Magic Mirror of theirs, are always ready for their enemies, and because of this no King in all the world will venture to make war on Babylon. “But we shall steal the mirror and make the Tower of Babylon fall. Know that I, Zabulun, was once a Prince of Babylon. They dishonored me, the men of Babylon, and drove me out of their city. And for that I shall make an end of their pride and an end of their security. “Fear not. It will not be hard to steal the mirror and throw down the tower. Know that the 35 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISIERMAN'S SON by the words that Zabulun said to me. ''We have cotme here,'' he said, ''to steal the Magic Mirror of the Babylonians. ''It is there on the top of the tower,'' said the Enchanter, ''resting against the Spear of Nimrod. One looking into that mirror sees all the Kings of the world, The one who threatens Babylon is shown with a spear raised in his hand. And if a King should bring an army against Babylon, the number of its men and the ways by which it comes would be shown in the mirror. The Baby- lonians, by means of this MIagic MIirror of theirs, are always ready for their enemies, and because of this no King in all the world will venture to make war on Babylon. '* But we shall steal the mirror and make the Tower of Babylon fall. Know that I, Zabulun, was once a Prince of Babylon. They dishonored me, the dmen of Babylon, and drove me out of their city. And for that I shall make an end of their pride and an end of their security. ''Fear not. It will not be hard to steal the mir- ror and throw down the tower, Know that the |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER King of the city is a foolish King, and that he cares only for his gardens and for the beautiful and terrible beasts that he can bring into them. And as for the Genii who guard Babylon—behold them! They are mighty beings, truly, Harut and Marut! Immeasurably old are they, and they pass their days in sleep beside the tower that they guard. I say to you that it will not be hard to overthrow the tower, and take away from the Babylonians the Magic Mirror that is their security.� As Zabulun spoke the terrible beasts in the King’s gardens roared mightily, and Harut and Marut, the mighty beings who slept in the shadow of the Tower of Babylon, turned in their sleeping. The flocks of birds that had built nests in their beards (the oldest owl and the littlest humming bird were amongst them) flew up and rested on the steps of the tower. The black-bearded men of Babylon passed in their throngs, while he who was once a prince in their city, and who was now Zabulun the Enchanter, stood there with his staff in his hands and smiling to himself. And I, Eean, The Boy Ap- 36 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER IKing of the city is a foolish King, and that he cares only for his gardens and for the beautiful and terrible beasts that he can bring into them. And as for the Genii who guard Babylon - behold them ! They are mighty beings, truly, Harut and Marut! Itbmmeasurably old are they, and they pass their days in sleep beside the tower that they guard. Isay to you that it will not be hard to over- throw the tower, and take away from the Baby- lonians the Magic Mirror that is their security,'' As Zabulun spoke the terrible beasts in the IKing's gardens roared mightily, and Harut and Marut, the mighty beings who slept in the shadow of the Tower of Babylon, turned in their sleeping. The flocks of birds that had built nests in their beards (the oldest owl and the littlest humming bird were amongst them) flew up and rested on the steps of the tower. The black-bearded men of Babylon passed in their throngs, while he who was once a prince in their city, and who was now Zabulun the En- chanter, stood there with his stnff in his hands and smiling to himself. And I, Eean, The Boy Ap- |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON prenticed to the Enchanter, felt as if I were falling, falling down from the top of the tower. IV. The Palace of the King of Babylon And now at the supper board of King Manus those who were eating, or drinking, or whispering to each other as the youth began his story, became silent and eager when he spoke of Babylon and the Tower of Babylon. The King himself was fain to hear about that city that was the greatest in the world, and about the King who was the mightiest of all Kings, and he commanded the attendants to cease going here and there. So the servers and chamberlains and stewards, with the dishes, and napkins, and rods of office in their hands, stood still behind those who were seated at the table. The lords leaned forward with their eyes upon the youth who sat in the story-teller’s place, and the King made a sign for him to tell on. But the youth Eean was speechless for a while. Such was the memory of the high Tower of Babylon upon him that had he been standing he would have fallen down. His head sank on 37 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON prenticed to the Enchanter, felt as if I were fall- ing, falling down frotm the top of the tower. TV. TmE PAAcE oF THE KNa or BABYLON And now at the supper board of King Manus those who were eating, or drinking, or whispering to each other as the youth began his story, became silent and eager when he spoke of Babylon and the Tower of Babylon. The King himself was fain to hear about that city that was the greatest in the world, and about the King who was the mightiest of all Kings, and he commanded the attendants to cease going here and there, So the servers and chamberlains and stewards, with the dishes, and napkins, and rods of office in their hands, stood still behind those who were seated at the table. The lords leaned forward with their eyes upon the youth who sat in the story-teller's place, and the King made a sign for hitm to tell on, But the youth Eean was speechless for a while. Such was the memory of the high Tower of Babylon upon hitm that had he been standing he would have fallen down, His head sank on |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER the arm rest of the chair, and those near him who touched his hand felt it chilled. Then King Manus signed for a chamberlain to go to him, and he went and wiped Eean’s brow with a napkin, and then brought him a goblet of the richest wine. He raised up his head and drank, and looked down the table, and saw the high candles that burned brightly, and saw the face of the King and the faces of the lords who sat with the King. But for a while his look was the look of a man whose spirit is in another place. He heard the words that were spoken around him—words that were about the King of Babylon, and the King of Babylon’s palace. The youth caught at these words, and went on to speak of what befell him. The walls of the King’s palace (said Eean, The Boy Apprenticed to an Enchanter) make seven circles, one wall rising higher than the other, and each wall having a different color. The first wall is white, the second wall is black, and the third wall is scarlet; the fourth wall is blue, the fifth wall is orange, the sixth wall is plated with 38 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER the arm rest of the chair, and those near him who touched his hand felt it chilled. Then King Manus signed for a chambcrlain to go to him, and he went and wiped Eean's brow with a napkin, and then brought him a goblet of the richest wine. He raised up his head and drank, and looked down the table, and saw the high candles that burned brightly, and saw the face of the King and the faces of the lords who sat with the King. But for a while his look was the look of a man whose spirit is in another place, He heard the words that were spoken around him -- words that were about the KEing of Babylon, and the King of Babylon's palace. The youth caught at these words, and went on to speak of what befell hitm. The walls of the King's palace (snid Eean, The Boy Apprenticed to an Enchanter) make seven circles, one wall rising higher than the other, and each wall having a different color. The first wall is white, the second wnll is black, and the third wall is scarlet; the fourth wall is blue, the fifth wall is orange, the sisth wnll is plated with |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON silver, and the seventh wall is plated with gold. I was filled with wonder when I looked on the walls of the King’s palace. The Enchanter that day had put on the dress of a merchant, but under it he had left his own garb—the straight dress that had the curious figures upon it. He took into his hand the staff that was made of two serpents twisting together, and he told me that the time had come to go to the palace and speak with the King. At an early hour, before it was yet market time, we went through the streets of the city. The soldiers let us pass through the Gate of Brass along a way that has on each side great lions carved in stone. We came to the palace, and my master spoke to the doorkeepers and they permitted us to enter. We went through the outer courts where there were soldiers who carried naked swords in their hands. And because my master gave himself out to be a merchant from far-off parts, and because the King greatly desired to speak with those who came from far-off parts, we were brought into the presence of the King of Babylon. 39 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON silver, and the seventh wall is plated with gold. II was filled with wonder when I looked on the walls of the King's palace. The Enchanter that day had put on the dress of a merchant, but under it he had left his own garb - the straight dress that had the curious figures upon it. He took into his hand the staff that was made of two serpents twisting together, and he told me that the time had come to go to the palace and speak with the King. At an early hour, before it was yet market time, we went through the streets of the city. The soldiers let us pass through the Gate of Brass along a way that has on each side great lions carved in stone, We came to the palace, and my master spoke to the doorkeepers and they permitted us to enter, We went through the outer courts where thiere were soldiers who carried naked swords in their hands, And because my master gave him- self out to be a merchant frodm far-off parts, and because the Eing greatly desired to speak with those who came from far-off parts, we were brought into the presence of the King of Babylon. |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER He looked, O King Manus, like a King that was of a long line of Kings. His black beard was powdered with gold, and spices burned before him. But his face was white, and it was like to the face of a man in a dream. Only one person stood near him—a dwarf from the Country of the Dwarfs. He had on his head a crown of scarlet feathers. When we came before him, and after we had bowed, the King looked upon us. He spoke to my master, and said, “What have you to sell, merchant?” And my master, before he spoke, let fall his merchant’s robe, and he showed himself in the straight garb that was covered with curious figures—the garb of a Magus it was. “What I have to sell,” he said, “is the meaning of dreams, O King.” And now, O King Manus, I have to tell of a cheat worked upon a King, and of a cheat worked by my master, Zabulun the Enchanter, upon the King of Babylon. Pretending to speak of the meaning of dreams he led the King to destruction, 40 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER He looked, O King Manus, like a King that was of a long line of Kings. His black beard was pow- dered with gold, and spices burned before hitm. But his face was white, and it was like to the face of a man in a dream. Only one person stood near him - a dwarf from the Country of the Dwarfs, He had on his head a crown of scarlet feathers, When we came before hitm, and after we had bowed, the King looked upon us, He spoke to my master, and said, ''What have you to sell, merchant?'' And my master, before he spoke, let fall his merchant's robe, and he showed himself in the Cr7:rS------ ''Wlat I have to sell,'' he said, ''is the meaning of dreams, O Eing.'' And now, O King Manus, I have to tell of a cheat worked upon a King, and of a cheat worked by my master, Zabulun the Enchanter, upon the JKing of Babylon. Pretending to speak of the meaning of dreams he led the King to destruction, |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON hoping thereby to encompass the destruction of Babylon. The King turned to his ancient dwarf and he said, “Remind me of my dreams.” And then the ancient dwarf said to the King, “Of the three dreams that seemed remarkable to you, O King, the first was the Dream of the Three Dishes.” “It is even so,” said the King. “I dreamed that there were three dishes set before me, no more than three dishes. And then I dreamed that afterward these three dishes were hidden from me and were not to be found. There was no one to tell me the signification of this dream.” “The signification of this dream,” said Zabulun the Enchanter cunningly, “is easy to discover. In the lore of the Chaldeans a dish signifies a treasure. You have dreamed of a threefold treasure that is hidden away.” But the dwarf who was beside the King spoke up and said, “Why does a dish signify a treasure?” “That is something I may not reveal,” said my master, Zabulun the Enchanter, and he turned to the dwarf the staff that was formed of two ser- 41 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON hoping thereby to encompass the destruction of Babylon. The Eing turned to his ancient dwarf and he said, ''Remind me of my dreams,'' And then the ancient dwarf said to the King, ''Of the three dreams that seemed remarkablc to you, O King, the first was the Dream of the Three Dishes,'' ''It is even so,'' said the King. ''Idreamed that there were three dishes set before me, no more than three dishes, And then I dreamed that after- ward these three dishes were hidden from me and were not to be found, There was no one to tell me the signification of this dream.'' ''The signification of this dream,'' said Zabulun the Enchanter cunningly, ''is easy to discover. In the lore of the Chaldeans a dish signifies a treas- ure, You have dreamed of a threefold treasure that is hidden away,'' >zz> ''That is something I may not reveal,'' said my master, Zabulun the Enchanter, and he turned to the dwarf the staff that was formed of two ser- |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER pents twisting together. The end of the staff lifted itself as though the serpents were rising up. The dwarf covered his eyes, and cried out, “O Magus!” “Remind me of the second dream that was considered remarkable,” said the King. And the dwarf said, “The second dream was the Dream of the Laden Ass.” “It is even so,” said the King. “I dreamed that I looked down the Way of the Lions, and there came along the way a laden ass. Of that dream also those skilled in the signification of dreams could tell me nothing.” “And yet the dream is plain,” said the Enchanter, looking full into the eyes of the King. “A laden ass signifies a treasure found—your dream is of a treasure being brought into your palace.” “It is so,” said the ancient dwarf with the crown of scarlet feathers upon his head. “In dreams an ass is always laden with treasure.” “And what was my third dream?” said the King. 42 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTE pents twisting togcther. The end of the staff lifted itself as though the serpents were rising up. The dwarf covered his eyes, and cried out, ''0 Magus ''' ''Remind me of the second dream that was considered remarkable,'' said the King. And the dwarf said, ''The second dream was the Dream of, the Laden Ass,'' ''It is even so,'' said the King. ''I dreamed that I looked down the Way of the Lions, and there came along the way a laden ass, Of that dream also those skilled in the signification of dreams could tell me nothing.'' ''And yet the dream is plain,'' said the En- chanter, looking full into the eyes of the King. ''A laden ass signifies a treasure found - your dream is of a treasure being brought into your palace.'' ''It is so,'' said the ancient dwarf with the crown of scarlet feathers upon his head, ''In dreams an ass is always laden with treasure.'' ''And what was my third dream ?'' said the King. |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON “Your third dream,” said the ancient dwarf, “was the Dream of the Arrows.” “It is even so,” said the King. “I dreamed of arrows that were shot upward to a great height.” And then the King was silent, and he and the dwarf looked long upon Zabulun the Enchanter. But Zabulun took a step nearer to them, and he said: “In the lore of the Chaldeans, arrows shot upward signify a very high tower. I can tell you now the significance of your three dreams, O King. They are of a treasure that is to come into your possession. The treasure is hidden. It is hidden beneath a tower. The height to which the arrows were shot shows that the treasure is hidden under the highest of towers—under the Tower of Babylon.” At the mention of the Tower of Babylon, O King of the Western Island, a great fear came over me, for I knew that it was now that Zabulun’s plan for the taking of the Magic Mirror was being put into practice. And it seemed to me that fear came over the ancient dwarf too, for he fell 43 | THE STORY OF EEAN TIE FISHERMAN'S SON ''Your third dream,'' said the ancient dwarf, ''was the Dream of the Arrows,'' ''It is even so,'' said the King. ''I dreamed of arrows that were shot upward to a great height.'' And then the King was silent, and he and the dwarf looked long upon Zabulun the Enchanter. But Znbulun took a step nearer to them, and he said : ''In the lore of the Chnldeans, arrows shot up- ward signify a very high tower, I can tell you now the significance of your three dreams, O Eing. They are of a treasure that is to come into your possession. The treasure is hidden It is hidden beneath a tower. The height to which the arrows were shot shows that thie treasure is hidden under the highest of towers - under the Tower of Baby- lon.'' At the mention of the Tower of Babylon, O ISing of the Western Island, a great fear came over me, for I knew that it was now that Zabulun's plan for the taking of the Magic Mirror was being put into practice. And it seemed to me that fear came over the ancient dwarf too, for he fell |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER down upon his face. But rage grew in the King, and his black brows drew together in a frown. “Are you one who would have the King make search for treasure beneath the Tower of Babylon?” he cried out. “No search need be made there,” said Zabulun the Enchanter. “And yet if the King should dream of treasure again it is proper that he should sacrifice a black cock upon the place where the treasure has been shown to be hidden. If that be done the dream will be banished and will come to the King no more. I speak as a Magus. But now I have shown you the meaning of the three dreams, and there is no more to be shown.” And saying this the Enchanter put the garb of a merchant over the robe of the Magus. A cup was handed to him and a cup was handed to me also. This was to signify to us that our speech with the King was at an end. There was wine in our cups, but bitterness had been mixed with the wine, to signify that what had been told the King was not pleasing to him. We went from the presence of the King, and 44 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER down upon his facc. But rage grew in the King, and his blnck brows drew together in a frown. ''Are you one who would have the King make search for treasure beneath the Tower of Baby- lon ?'' he cried out. ''No search need be made there,'' said Zabulun the Enchanter. ''And yet if the King should dream of treasure again it is proper that he should sacrifice a black cock upon the plnce where the treasure has been shown to be hidden, If that be done the dream will be banished and will come to the King no more. I speak as a Magus, But now I have shown you the meaning of the three dreams, and there is no more to be shown,'' And saying this the Enchanter put the garb of a mer- chant over the robe of the Magus. A cup was handed to him and a cup was handed to me also. This was to signify to us that our speech with the King was at an end, There was wine in our cups, but bitterness had been mised with the wine, to signify that what had been told the King was '2CC;LL'44+--- ==- - |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON when we were far outside the palace my master said to me: “It will come about that the King will search for the treasure that I have put into his dreams. Moreover, he will speak to others of this treasure, and they, too, will search for it. It will come about that these many searchers, digging for the treasure, will break upon the foundations of the Tower of Babylon. Thereupon I will take the Magic Mirror and make myself the master of the Babylonians.� This he said to me as I went with him from the King’s palace along the Way of the Lions. I was affrighted, and it seemed to me that the lions that were in stone looked ragefully down on us as we passed. V. The King of Babylon We lived for a whole moon in Babylon, my master Zabulun and I, before the danger that was greater than the danger that is upon me now showed itself to me. Just before the hour of the market we would go through the streets of the 45 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON when we were far outside the palace my master said to me: ''IL will codme about that the King will search for the treasure that I have put into his dreams. Moreover, he will speak to others of this treasure, and they, too, will search for it. It will come about that thcse many searchers, digging for the treasure, will break upon the foundations of the Tower of Bnbylon. Thereupon I will take the MIagic MIirror and make myself the master of the Babylonians,'' This he said to me as I went with him from the King's palace along the Way of the Lions. I was affrighted, and it seemed to me that the lions that were in stone looked ragefully down on us as we passed. V. TrmE Erma or BABYLoN We lived for a whole moon in Babylon, my master Zabulun and I, before the danger that was greater than the danger that is upon me now showed itself to me. Just before the hour of the market we would go through the streets of the |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER city and toward the great market place. Throngs of people would be there, gathered together for buying or selling, or for talk of the happenings of the day before. My master would take me to a shady place, and we would sit there, resting or refreshing ourselves with draughts of the wine of the palm. And Zabulun would tell me that the King we had spoken with was the most foolish King who had ever ruled over Babylon. “Great and terrible he seems when he sits upon his throne in his palace,” Zabulun would say, “but for all that he is foolish, and he delights more to come into the market and hear the talk of strangers than to sit in his council chamber.” Again and again Zabulun would speak of the King, and he would say: “Often he comes here, and he sits in the market place and talks with all comers, which is against the customs of the Kings of Babylon. We will see him come here, and we will watch him do what is reported of him.” Seated in the market in a shady place I would watch the throngs that moved about there. I 46 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCIANTER city and toward the great market place. Throngs of people would be there, gathered together for buying or selling, or for talk of the happenings of the day before. My master would take me to a shady place, and we would sit there, resting or refreshing ourselves with draughts of the wine of the palm. And Zabulun would tell me that the King we had spoken with was the most foolish King who had ever ruled over Babylon, ''Great and terri- ble he seems when he sits upon his throne in his palace,'' Zabulun would say, ''but for all that he is foolish, and he delights more to come into the market and hear the talk of strangers than to sit in his council chamber.'' Again and again Zabulun wonld speak of the King, and he would say : ''Often he comes here, and he sits in the market place and talks with all comers, which is against the cnstoms of the Kings of Babylon. We will see him come here, and we will watch him do what is reported of hitm.'' Seated in the market in a shady place I would watch the throngs that moved about therc. I |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON saw the merchants who had come down the river in such round boats as we had voyaged in. They brought casks of the wine of the palm to the market. And I saw those who had come from Arabia with spices, and my master would tell me how these spices had been gathered. Some had frankincense that grows on trees that are guarded by winged serpents. Only with smoke of burning styrax could they drive the serpents from the trees. And others had cassia that is found in a shallow lake guarded by fierce, bat-like creatures. To gather it men have to cover themselves all over with the hides of cattle, leaving openings for their eyes only. And there are the merchants who have the ladanum that settles on low bushes, and that sticks to the beards of he-goats that go amongst the bushes. Others have the cinnamon that is used by birds to build their nests against high cliffs. Men cannot climb these cliffs to gather the sticks of cinnamon, but they make the birds bring into their nests such weights as break the nests down and so strew on the ground the sticks of cinnamon. They slaughter cattle under the cliffs, 47 | THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON saw the umerchants who had come down the river in such round boats as we had voyaged in, They brought casks of the wine of the palm to the market. And I saw those who had come from Arabia with spices, and my master would tell me how these spices had been gathered. Some had frankin- cense that grows on trees that are guarded by winged serpents, Only with smole of burning styrax could they drive the serpents from the trees. And others had cassia that is found in a shallow lake guarded by fierce, bat-lile creatures, To gather it men have to cover themselves all over with the hides of cattle, leaving openings for their eyes only. And there are the merchants who have the ladanum that settles on low bushes, and that sticks to the beards of he-goats that go amongst the bushes. Others have the cinnamon that is used by birds to build their nests against high eliffs. Men cannot climb these cliffs to gather the sticks of cinnamon, but they make the birds bring into their nests such weights as break the nests down and so strew on the ground the sticks of cinnamon. They slaughter cattle under the cliffs, |
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| THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER and the birds fly into their nests with great pieces of the meat, and the weight of these pieces of meat breaks down the nests. And so men gather cinnamon in Arabia. And one day my master showed me the King of Babylon as he came into the market place. He wore a black cloak that had only one stripe of purple in it, and a boy went beside him holding an Indian hound in a leash. Having come into the market the King seated himself in a special place, and he drank wine and ate honey cakes, and talked with the strangers that were brought before him, and let himself be gaped at by throngs of people. And then, from one to another of those who were around him, my master and I heard it said, “The King, surely, has had remarkable dreams.� In three days my master was sent for by the King, and he came into the palace again bringing me with him, and he was saluted as a Magus. The King’s dreams were told to him. The first dream was of a drinking cup that blazed with fire, and the second dream was of a ram-headed man 48 | THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER and the birds fly into their nests with great pieces of the Imeat, and the weight of these pieces of meat breaks down the nests, And so men gather cin- namon in Arabia. And one day my master showed me the King of Babylon as he came into the market place. He wore a black cloak that had only one stripe of purple in it, and a boy went beside hitm holding an Indian hound in a leash. Having come into the market the King seated himself in a special place, and he drank wine and ate honey cakes, and talked with the strangers that were brought before him, and let himself be gaped at by throngs of people. And then, from onc to another of those who were around him, my master and I heard it said, ''The King, surely, has had re- markable dreams,'' In three days my master was sent for by the King, and he cme into the palace again bringing me with him, and he was saluted as a Magus, The King's dreams were told to him. The first dream was of a drinking cup thiat blazed with fire, and the second dream was of a ram-headed man |
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| THE STORY OF EEAN THE FISHERMAN'S SON with golden horns, and the third dream was of a soldier in a black cloak. All those dreams, according to those in the palace who considered dreams, were of a treasure. Zabulun, my master, agreed that assuredly they were of a treasure, knowing that whatever the King dreamed of after he had put the thought of a treasure into the minds of those in the palace would be thought to be of that and of nothing else. Then speaking as a Magus he told them that the blazing fire of the drinking cup, the golden horns on the ram-headed man, and the blackness of the soldier’s cloak all signified the Tower of Babylon. The King and the ancient dwarf became very silent when my master spoke of the tower. It was then that the Enchanter took the staff that was made of two serpents twisting together into his right hand, and declared that in order to make the dream of the tower cease to trouble him, the King should sacrifice a black cock in the lowest place of the tower. Wine was brought us then, and my master and I drank, and this time no bitterness had been put 49 | THE STORY OF EEAN TIE FISHERMAN'S SON with golden horns, and the third dream was of a soldier in a black cloak. All those dreams, ac- cording to those in the palace who considered dreams, were of a treasure. Zabulun, my master, agreed that assuredly they were of a treasure, knowing that whatever the King dreamed of after he had put the thought of a treasure into the minds of those in the palace would be thought to be of that and of nothing else. Then spcaking as a Magus he told them that the blazing fire of the drinking cup, the golden horns on the ram-headed man, and the blnckness of the soldier's cloak all signified the Tower of Bnbylon. The King and the ancient dwarf be- came very silent when my master spoke of the tower. It was then that the Enchanter took the staff that was made of two serpents twisting together into his right hand, and declared that in order to make the dream of the tower cease to trouble hitm, the King should sacrifice a black cock in the lowest place of the tower. Wine was brought us then, and my master and I drank, and this time no bitterness had been put |
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| PREFACE On the analogy of the famous apple,—“there ain’t going to be no” preface, “not nohow.” Children do not read prefaces, so anything of a prefatory nature that might interest them is put at the beginning of chapter one. As for the grown-ups the story is not written for grown-ups, and if they want to know why it begins with such a gruesome first chapter, let them ask the children. Children like the horrors first and the end all bright. Many grown-ups like the tragedy at the end. But perhaps the children are right and the grown-ups are standing on their heads. Besides they can skip the first chapter; it is only a prologue. | PEEEACE On the analogy of the famous apple,--''there ain't going to be no'' preface, ''not nohow.'' Children do not read prefaces, so anything of a prefatory nature that might interest them is put at the beginning of chap- ter one. As for the grown-ups the story is not written for grown- ups, and if they want to know why it begins with such a gruesome first chapter, let them ask the children. Chil- dren like the horrors first and the end all bright. Many grown-ups like the tragedy at the end. But perhaps the children are right and the grown-ups are standing on their heads, Besides they can skip the first ehapter ; it is only a prologue. |
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| A, Staircase to Solar and Aline’s Room; B, Staircase to Solar and North Rooms; C, Buttery (the place where the drink was kept, Cf. French boire); D, Pantry (the place where the food was kept, Cf. French pain); E, Chapel. Note.—The approach is from the north, therefore the usual position of the compass is inverted. The scale is a scale of feet. PLANK OF THE HALL HOLWICK, YORKSHIRE | r3 - J E MOAT = PLEASAUNCE. \< ety u PP ER. =sCOURT. Peue- 4. ++ -z'; w= l] 8i4 E G 65 AA- w == Z5I E s' Ng A- --- MOr1. 5 o: H w A, STAIRCASE To SOLAB AND ALINE's RO0S; B, STaIRCAsE TO SoLAR aND Nonnm Rooss; C, BUrrERY (the place where the drink was kept, Cf. French boire) ; D, PaNTRY (the place where the food was kept, Cf. French pain) ; E, CEAPEL. NoTEA--The approach is from the north, therefore the usual position of the compass is inverted. The scale is a scale of feet. TILAN OF THE HALL HOAWICK, YORESHIRE |
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| THE CHILD OF THE MOAT A STORY FOR GIRLS CHAPTER I HATE Sweet children of demurest air, Pale blossoms woven through your hair, On shifting rainbows gathering, Endowed with love’s engaging mien And crowding lips that toward me lean, Through little hands, outstretched between In sympathetic wondering. Children, ye cannot understand, Floating in that enchanted land, The pathos of our helplessness; And yet your winsome faces bear, Though ye yourselves are unaware, The antidote of our despair,— Exorcists of our hopelessness. Children of Fancy: The Guelder Roses. THE great ship Lusitania was nearing Queenstown on May 7th, 1915, when a terrible explosion occurred, and in fifteen minutes she had sunk. Among some 1700 adults and 500 children were a lecturer on art and archaeology and a little girl, with whom he had made friends on board. About 700 people escaped and these two were both eventually picked up out of the water. When they reached the land there was no 1 | rrs Y Yn 1Y Y Y T T1 4-- a 4uLA UUT 1t1tt, 1 M H. - I Y' sunk. A rp MOa A STORY FOR GIRLS CHAPTER I HATE Sweet children of demurest air, Pale blossoms woven through your hair, On shifting rainbows gathering, Endowed with love's engaging mien And erowding lips that toward me lean, Through little hands, outstretched between In sympathetie wondering. Chilren, ye eannot understand, FIoating in that enehanted land, TThe pathos of our helplessness; And yet your winsome faces bear, Though ye yourselves are unaware, The antidote of our despair,- Exorcists of our hopelessness. Children of Fanoy: The Guelder Roaes. 8E great ship Lusitania was nearing Q2ueens- town on May 7th, 1915, when a terrible esplo- sion oceurred, and in fifteen minutes she had Among some 1700 adults and 500 ehildren were a leeturer on art and arehaeology and a little girl, with whom he had made friends on board. About 700 people eseaped and these two were both eventually picked up out of the water. When they reached the land there was no |
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| 2 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT one left to look after her; so he first took her across to her relatives in England and then she went to live in the home of the archaeologist, in Scotland, who had three little boys of his own but no little girls. Archaeologists do not know anything about girls’ story books, and he may have been misinformed when he was told that girls’ books were too tame and that most girls preferred to read the more exciting books of their brothers. However, this made him decide himself to write a story for the little girl, which should be full of adventures. It was frankly a melodramatic story, a story of love and hate, and he chose the period of the Reformation, so as to have two parties bitterly opposed to each other; but, except for dramatic purposes, religious problems were as far as possible left out. One difficulty was as to whether the characters should speak in old English; but, as that might have made it hard to read, only a few old words and phrases were introduced here and there, just, as it were, to give a flavour. Afterwards the author was asked to publish the story “for precocious girls of thirteen,” as it was delightfully phrased; that is to say, for girls of thirteen and upwards and perhaps for grown up people, but hardly for superior young ladies of about seventeen; and this is the story: Father Laurence, the parish priest of Middleton, was returning home from Holwick on a dark night in the late spring. He had come from the bedside of a dying woman and the scene was unpleasantly impressed on his mind. Sarah Moulton had certainly not been a blessing | s= souuD OF THE MOAT one left to look after her; so he first took her across to her ielatives in England and then she went to live in the home of the arehaeologist, in Scotland, who had three little boys of his own but no little girls. Arehaeologists do not know anything about girls' story books, and he may have been misinformed when he was told that girls' books were too tame and that most girls preferred to read the more exeiting books of their brothers, However, this made him decide himself to write a story for the little girl, whieh should be full of adventures. It was frankly a melodramatie story, a story of love and hate, and he chose the period of the Reforma- tion, so as to have two parties bitterly opposed to each other; but, except for dramatie purposes, religious prob- lems were as far as possible left out. One diffieulty was as to whether the characters should speak in old English ; but, as that might have made it hard to read, only a few old words and phrases were introduced here and there, just, as it were, to give a flavour. Afterwards the aunthor was asked to publish the story ''for preeocious girls of thirteen,'' as it was delightfully phrased ; that is to say, for girls of thirteen and upwards and perhaps for grown up people, but hardly for supe- rior young ladies of about seventeen ; and this is the story : Father Laurenee, the parish priest of Middleton, was returning home from Holwiek on a dark night in the late spring. He had eome from the bedside of a dying woman and the scene was unpleasantly impressed on his mind. Sarah Moulton had certainly not been a blessing |
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| HATE 3 to her neighbours, but, in spite of that, he felt sorry for the delicate child left behind, as he did not see what was to become of it. He felt very troubled, too, about the poor creature, herself, for was not his task the cure of souls? Not that Sarah Moulton was much of a mother; but perhaps any kind of a mother was better than nothing, and the poor child had loved her; yet, after she had received the viaticum, she had given vent to the most frightful curses on her neighbours. “If I cannot get the better of Janet Arnside in life,” she had screamed, “I will get the better of her when I am dead. I will haunt her and drive her down the path to Hell, I will never let her rest, I will....” and with these words on her lips the soul had fled from her body. He sighed a little wearily. He was famished and worn for he had previously been a long tramp nearly to Lunedale. “I do my best,” he said, “but I am afraid the task is too difficult for me. I wish there were some one better than myself in Upper Teesdale: poor Sarah!” Father Laurence’ way led through the churchyard, but clear as his conscience was, he had never been able to free himself from a certain fear in passing through it on a dark night. Could it be true that the spirits of the departed could plague the living? Of course it could not; and yet, somehow, he was not able to rid himself of the unwelcome thought. As he passed through the village and drew nearer to the church, he half resolved to go round. No, that was cowardly and absurd. He would not allow idle superstitions to get the better of him. But when he approached the gate he hesitated and his heart began to beat violently. What was that unearthly screech in the darkness of the night? He crossed him- | HATE to her neighbours, but, in spite of that, he felt sorry for the delieate child left behind, as he did not see what was to beeome of it. He felt very troubled, too, about the poor ereature, herself, for was not his task the cure of soulst Not that Sarah Moulton was much of a mother; but perhaps any kind of a mother was better than noth- ing, and the poor child had loved her ; yet, after she had received the viatieum, she had given vent to the most frightful curses on her neighbours. ''If I eannot get the better of Janet Arnside in life,'' she had screamed, ''I will get the better of her when I am dead. I will haunt her and drive her down the path to Hell, I will anever let her rest, I will . , .'' and with these words on her lips the soul had fled from her body. Ee sighed a little wearily, Ee was famished and worn for he had previously been a long tramp nearly to Lunedale. '' do my best,'' he said, ''but I am afraid the task is too difieult for me. I wish there were some one better than myself in Upper Teesdale: poor Sarah t '' Father Laurence' way led through the ehurehyard, but elear as his conscience was, he had never been able to free himself from a certain fear in passing through it on a dark night. Could it be true that the spirits of the departed eould plague the living? Of course it eould not; and yet, somehow, he was not able to rid himself of the unweleome thought. As he passed through the vil- lage and drew nearer to the church, he half resolved to go round. No, that was eowardly and absurd. He would not allow idle superstitions to get the better of him. But when he approached the gate he hesitated and his heart began to beat violently. What was that unearthly screech in the darkness of the nightt He crossed him- |
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| 4 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT self devoutly, however, and said a Paternoster and stepped through the wicket gate. “‘Libera nos a malo,’ yes, deliver us from evil, indeed,” he said, as, dimly on the sky line he saw a shadowy figure with long gaunt arms stretched to the sky. He crossed himself again, when a ghoulish laugh rang through the still night air. He turned a little to the left, but the figure came swiftly toward him. He wanted to run, but duty bade him refrain. His heart beat yet more violently as the figure approached and at length he stood still, unable to move. The figure came closer, and closer still, stretching out its arms, and finally a harsh voice said: “Is that you, Father Laurence? Ha! Ha! I told you Sarah Moulton would die. You need not tell me about it.” It was old Mary, “Moll o’ the graves,” as the folk used to call her. Father Laurence felt a little reassured, but she was not one whom anybody would wish to meet on a dark night, least of all in a churchyard. “What is the matter, Mary? Why are you not in your bed,” he asked; “disturbing honest folk at this time of night?” “You let me alone,” she replied, “with your saints and your prayers and your Holy Mother. I go where I please and do as I please. I knew Sarah would die. I like folk to die,” she said with horrible glee; “and she cursed Janet Arnside, did she? A curse on them all, every one of them. I wish she would die too; ay, and that slip of a girl that Sarah has left behind. What are you shaking for?” she added. “Do you think I do not know what is going on? You have nothing to tell me; | THE CHIILD OF THE MOAT self devoutly, however, and said a Paternoster and stepped through the wicket gate. '' 'Libera nos a malo,' yes, deliver us from evil, indeed,'' he said, as, dimly on the sky line he saw a shadowy figure with long gaunt arms stretched to the sky. He crossed himself again, when a ghoulish laugh rang through the still night air. He turned a little to the left, but the figure came swiftly toward him. He wanted to run, but duty bade him refrain. His heart beat yet more violently as the figure approached and at length he stood still, unable to move. The figure came closer, and closer still, stretehing out its arms, and finally a harsh voiee said : ''Is that you, Father Laurencet Ha! Ha! I told you Sarah Moul- ton would die. You need not tell me about it,'' It was old Mary, ''Moll o' the graves,'' as the folk used to eall her. Father Laurenee felt a little reassured, but she was not one whom anybody would wish to meet on a dark night, least of all in a ehurehyard. ''What is the matter, Maryt Why are you not in your bed,'' he asked ; ''disturbing honest folk at this time of nightt'' ''You let me alone,'' she replied, ''with your saints and your prayers and your Holy Mother. I go where I please and do as I please. I knew Sarah would die. I like folk to die,'' she said with horrible glee ; ''and she cursed Janet Arnside, did shei A eurse on them all, every one of them. I wish she would die too; ay, and that slip of a girl that Sarah has left behind. What are you shaking for7'' she added. ''Do you think I do not know what is going ont You have nothing to tell me; |
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| HATE 5 I assure you the powers are on our side. There is nothing like the night and the dark.” “You are a wicked woman, Mary,” said the old priest sorrowfully, “and God will punish you one day. See you—I am going home; you go home too.” “You may go home if you like,” said the old hag as he moved on, “and my curses go with you; but I stay here;” and she stood and looked after him as he faded into the darkness. “Silly old dotard,” she growled; “I saw him at her bedside or ever I came along here. The blessed sacrament indeed; and much may it profit her! I wish now I had waited and seen what he did after she had gone; comforted that child, I expect! Fancy loving a mother like that! Ha! Ha! No, I am glad I came here and scared the pious old fool.” She moved among the tombs and sat down near an open grave that had just been dug. “Pah! I am sick of their nonsense. Why cannot they leave folk in peace? I want to go my own way; why should I not go my own way? All my life they have been at me, ever since I was a little girl. My foolish old mother began it. Why should I not please myself? Well, she’s dead anyway! I like people to die. And now Mother Church is at me. Why should I think of other people, why should I always be holding myself in control? No, I let myself go, I please myself.” “I have no patience with any of them,” she muttered, “and now there is a new one to plague me,” and “Moll o’ the graves” saw in her mind’s eye a slim, graceful girl of twelve, endowed with an unparalleled refinement | HATE II assure you the powers are on our side. There is noth- ing like the night and the dark.'' ''You are a wicked woman, Mary,'' said the old priest sorrowfully, ''and God will punish you one day, See you-I am going home; you go home too.'' ''You may go home if you like,'' said the old hag as he moved on, ''and my eurses go with you; but I stay here ;'' and she stood and looked after hitm as he faded into the darkness. ''Silly old dotard,'' she growled ; ''I saw him at her bedside or ever I came along here. The blessed sacra- ment indeed ; and much may it profit her! I wish now I had waited and seen what he did after she had gone; comforted that child, I expect! Fancy loving a mother like that! Ia ! Hat No, I am glad I eame here and seared the pious old fool.'' She moved among the tombs and sat down near an open grave that had jast been dug. ''Pah! I am sick of their nonsense. Why cannot they leave folk in peacei I want to go my own way ; why should I not go my own way? All my life they have been at me, ever since I was a little girl. My foolish old mother began it. Why should I not please myselft Well, she's dead anywayl I like people to die. And now Mother Church is at me. Why should I think of other people, why should I al- ways be holding myself in control? No, I let myself go, I please myself.'' ''I have no patience with any of them,'' she muttered, ''and now there is a new one to plague me,'' and ''Moll o' the graves'' saw in her mind's eye a slim, graceful girl of twelve, endowed with an unparalleled refinement |
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| 6 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT f beauty. “What do they mean by bringing that child to Holwick Hall,” she continued, “as if things were not bad enough already,—a-running round and waiting on folk, a-tending the sick and all the rest of it? Let them die! I like them to die. Self-sacrifice and self-control forsooth! They say she is clever and well-schooled and mistress of herself and withal sympathetic. What’s the good of unselfishness and self-control? No, liberty, liberty—that’s the thing for you, Moll. Self-control, indeed!” and again the ghastly laugh rang through the night air. “Yes, liberty, Moll,—liberty. Are you not worth more than all their church-ridden priests and docile unselfish children? What avails unselfishness and affection? Father Laurence and Aline Gillespie, there’s a pair of them! No, hate is the thing, hate is better than love. Scandal and spite and jealousy—that’s true joy, that’s the true woman, Moll,” and she rubbed her hands with unholy mirth. As she talked to herself the moon rose and gradually the churchyard became light. “Love!” she went on, “love! Yes, Oswald, that’s where they laid you,” she said, as she looked at the next place to the open grave. “Ah, but hate got the better of your love, for all that, fine big man that you were, a head taller than the rest of the parish, and all the girls after you, too!” She looked at the side of the open grave, where the end of a bone protruded. She pulled it out. It was a femur of unusual size. “Yes, Oswald,” she repeated, “and that’s yours. You did not think I would be holding your thigh-bone these forty years after! “Ha! you loved me, did you? I was a pretty lass then. Yes, you loved me, I know you loved me. You | TIE CHILD OF THE MOAT of beauty. ''What do they mean by bringing that child to Holwick Hall,'' she continued, ''as if things were not bad enough already,-a-running round and waiting on folk, a-tending the siek and all the rest off itt Lct them die! I like them to die. Self-sacrifiee and self-control forsooth! They say she is elever and wellsehooled and mistress of herself and withal sympathetie. What's the good of unselfishness and self-control? No, liberty, liberty-that's the thing for you, Moll. Self-eontrol, indeed!'' and again the ghastly laugh rang through the night air. ''Yes, liberty, Moll,--liberty. Are you not worth more than all their church-ridden priests and docile unselflsh childrent What avails unselfishness and affeetion Father Laurenee and Aline Gillespie, there's a pair of them ! No, hate is the thing, hate is better than love. Seandal and spite and jealousy- that's true joy, that's the true woman, Moll,'' and she rubbed her hands with unholy mirth. As she talked to herself the moon rose and gradually the churchyard beeame light. ''Love!'' she went on, ''love! Yes, Oswall, that's where they laid you,'' she said, as she looked at the next place to the open grave. ''Ah, but hate got the better of your love, for all that, fine big man that you were, a head taller than the rest of the parish, and all the girls after you, too!'' She looked at the side of the open grave, where the end of a bone protruded. She pulled it out. It was a femur of unusual size. ''Yes, Oswald,'' she repeated, ''and that's yours, You did not think I would be hold- ing your thigh-bone thcse forty years after! ''Ha! you loved me, did yout I was a pretty lass then, Yes, you loved me, I know you loved me. You |
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| HATE 7 would have died for me, and I loved you, too. But little Sarah loved you and you loved her. I know you loved me most, but I would not have that. ‘I should have controlled myself,’ you say; ha! I was jealous and I hated you. Self-control and love;—no, no, liberty and hate, liberty and hate; and when you were ill I came to see you and I saw the love-light in your eyes. They thought you would get well. Of course you would have got well; but there you were, great big, strong man, weak as a child,—a child! I hate children. Was that it? You tried to push my hands off, as I pressed the pillow on your face, you tried; oh, you tried hard, and I laugh to think of it even now. How I longed to bury my fingers in your throat, but I knew they would leave marks. “Yes, liberty and hate, ha! ha! I would do it again. See, Oswald!” and she took the brittle bone and viciously snapped it across her knee. “Self-control! love! unselfishness! Never! And that child up at the Hall, Oswald, I must send her after you. I have just frightened Sarah down to you. You can have her now, and that child shall come next. Hate is stronger than love. Liberty, self-will and hate must win in the end.” The abandoned old wretch stood up and took her stick—she could not stand quite straight—and hobbled with uncanny swiftness across to a newly made child’s grave and began to scrape with her hands; but at that moment she heard the night-watchman coming along the lane; so she rose and walked back to Newbiggin, where she lived. She opened the door and found the tinder box and struck a light, and then went to a corner where there was | HATE would have died for me, and I loved you, too. But little Sarah loved you and you loved her. I know you loved me most, but I would not have that. 'I should have controlled myself,' you say ; ha! I was jealous and I hated you, Self-control and love ;-no, no, liberty and hate, liberty and hate; and when you were ill I eame to see you and I saw the love-light in your eyes, They thought yon would get well. Of course you would have got well ; but there you were, great big, strong man, wcak as a child,-a ehild! I hate children, Was that it7 You tried to push my hands off, as I pressed the pillow on your face, you tried ; oh, you tried hard, and I laugh to think of it even now. How I longed to bury my fingers in your throat, but I knew they would leave marks. ''Yes, liberty and hate, ha! ha! I would do it again. See, Oswald !'' and she took the brittle bone and vieiously snapped it across her knee. ''Self-eontrol! love! un- selfishness! Never ! And that child up at the Hall, Oswald, I must send her after you. I have just fright- ened Sarah down to you, You can have her now, and that child shall come next. Hate is stronger than love. Liberty, self-will and hhate must win in the end.'' The abandoned old wreteh stood np and took her stiek-she could not stand quite straight-and hobbled with uncanny swiftness across to a newly made child 's grave and began to scrape with her hands ; but at that moment she heard the night-watehman coming along the lane; so she rose and walked back to Newbiggin, where she lived. She opened the door and found the tinder box and struck a light, and then went to a corner where there was |
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| 8 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT an old chest. She unlocked it and peered in and lifted out a bag and shook it. It was full of gold. “Yes,” she said, “money is a good thing, too. How little they know what ‘old Moll o’ the graves’ has got,—old, indeed, Moll is not old! Ah, could not that money tell some strange tales? Love and learning and self-control! Leave all that to the priests. Hate will do for me,—money and liberty are my gods. “Aha, Aline Gillespie, you little fool, what do you mean by crossing my path? I was a pretty little girl once and you are not going to win the love of Upper Teesdale folk for nothing, I’ll warrant you.” | THE CHILD OF THE MOAT an old chest. She unlocked it and peered in and lifted out a bag and shook it. It was full of gold. ''Ye,'' she said, ''money is a good thing, too. How little they know what 'old Moll o' the graves' has got,--old, in- deed, Moll is not old1 Ah, could not that money tell some strange tales? Love and learning and self-con- trol! Leave all that to the priests. Hate will do for me,-money and liberty are my gods. ''Aha, Aline Gillespie, you little fool, what do you mean by crossing my patht I was a pretty little girl onee and you are not going to win the love of Upper Teesdale folk for nothing, I'l1 warrant you.'' |
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| SECRETS 13 “You silly little one, they would not trouble their heads about you, you are only twelve years old.” “Perhaps not,” answered Aline with a half sigh, as she thought of her present condition. “I do not believe there is anybody in the world that cares for me,” she said to herself, “except perhaps Audry, and I have only known her such a little time that she cannot care much. I don’t suppose there are many little girls who can be as lonely as I am. I have not even an aunt or uncle. Yes, I do want some one to love me, it is all so very hard; I wish I had a sister or a brother.” In a way, doubtless, Audry’s mother did not mean to be altogether cruel; but she had no love for her small visitor and thought that it was unnecessary for Master Mowbray to bring her to Holwick Hall. So she always found plenty of heavy work for the child to do and often made excuses when Audry had some dainty or extra pleasure as to why Aline should not have her share. Aline thought of her father, Captain Angus Gillespie of Logan, and remembered his infinite care for her when she had been the apple of his eye. It had been a sad little life;—first she had been motherless from infancy and then had followed the long financial difficulties that she did not understand; but one thing after another had gone; and just before her father died they had had to leave Logan Tower and go and live in Edinburgh; and the little estate was sold. Audry in her rough, kindly way, flung her arms round the slim form and kissed her. “Do not think melancholy things; come along to the library and see what we can find.” So they left the solar and went down | SECRETS ''Youu silly little one, they would not trouble their heads about you, you are only twelve years old,'' ''Perhaps not,'' answered Aline with a half sigh, as she thought of her present condition. ''I do not believe there is anybody in the world that cares for me,'' she said to herself, ''escept perhaps Audry, and I have only known her such a little time that she cannot care much. I don't suppose there are many little girls who can be as lonely as I am. I have not even an aunt or uncle, Yes, I do want some one to love me, it is all so very hard ; I wish I had a sister or a brother,'' In a way, doubtless, Audry's mother did not mean to be altogether eruel ; but she had no love for her small visitor and thought that it was unnecessary for Master Mowbray to bring her to Eolwiek Eall. So she always found plenty of heavy work for the child to do and often made escuses when Audry had some dainty or estra pleasure as to why Aline should not have her share. Aline thought of her father, Captain Angus Gillespie of Logan, and remembered his infinite eare for her when she had been the apple of his eye, It had been a sad little life ;-first she had been motherless frotm infancy and then had followed the long finaneial diffßeulties that she did not understand ; but one thing after another had gone; and just before her father died they had had to leave Logan Tower and go and live in Edinburgh; and the little estate was sold. Andry in her rough, kindly way, flung her arms round the slitm form and kissed her. ''Do not think melan- choiy things; eome along to the library and see what we can find.'' So they left the solar and went down |
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| 14 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT through the hall and out into the upper court. They raced across the court, because of the rain, and up the little flight of nine steps, three at a time, till they were on the narrow terrace that ran along the front of the library. Aline reached the door first, and, as she swung back the heavy oak with its finely carved panels, exclaimed: “There, I told you I could run.” They shut the door and walked down the broad central space. The library had been built in the fifteenth century by Master James Mowbray, Audry’s great-great-grandfather, and was supposed to be the finest in the North of England. It was divided on each side into little alcoves, each lit by its own window and most of the books were chained to their places, being attached to a long rod that ran along the top of each shelf. At the end of each alcove was a lock with beautifully wrought iron tracery work that held the rod so that it could not be pulled out. The library was very dusty and was practically never used, as the present lord of Holwick was not a scholar; so for the last four years since he had succeeded to the estate it had been neglected and Aline was almost the only person who ever entered it. The children walked down the room admiring the delicate iron work of the locks, for which Aline had a great fancy and she had paused at one, which was her particular favourite, and was fingering every part of it affectionately, when she noticed that a small sculptured figure was loose and could be made to slide upwards. This excited her curiosity and she pushed it to and fro to see if it was for any special purpose, till suddenly she discovered that, when the figure was pushed as high | 14 THE CHILD OF TIE MOAT through the hall and out into the upper court. They raced across the eourt, because of the rain, and 1up the little flight of nine steps, three at a time, till they were on the narrow terrace that ran along the front of the library. Aline reached the door first, and, as shc swung back the heavy oak with its finely carved panels, exclaimed : ''There, I told you I eould run,'' They shut the door and walked down the broad central space. The, library had been built in the fifteenth cen- tury by Master James Mowbray, Audry's great-great- grandfather, and was supposed to be the finest in the ' North of England. It was divided on each side into little aleoves, each lit by its own window and most of the books were ehained to their places, being attached to a long rod that ran along the top of each shelf. At the end of each alcove was a lock with beautifully wrought iron tracery work that held the rod so that it couldd not be pulled out. The library was very dusty and was prae- tically never used, as the present lord of Holwick was not a scholar ; so for the last four years since he had suc- ceeded to the cstate it had been neglected and Alino was almost the only person who cver entered it. The ehildren walked down the room admiring the deli- cate iron work of the loeks, for whieh Aline had a great fancy and she had paused at one, which was her par- tieular favourite, and was fingering every part of it affeetionately, when she noticed that a small seulptured figure was loose and could be made to slide upwards. This exeited her euriosity and she pushed it to and fro to see if it was for any special purpose, till suddenly she discovered that, when the figure was pushed as high |
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| SECRETS 15 as it would go, the whole lock could be pulled forward like a little door on a hinge, revealing a small cavity behind. Both children started and peered eagerly into the space disclosed, where they found a very thin little leather book which was dropping to pieces with old age. They took it out and examined it and found that the cover had separated so as to lay open what had been a secret pocket in the cover, which contained a piece of stout parchment the same size as the pages of the book. The book was written in black letter and was in Latin. “Now you see the use of knowing Latin,” said Aline triumphantly, with a twinkle in her dark blue eyes. “That depends whether it is interesting,” Audry replied. “It seems to be an account of the building of Holwick Hall; but what is the use of this curious piece of parchment with all these holes cut in it?” “Perhaps you can find out if you read the book,” suggested Audry. “It certainly must be of some importance or they would not have taken all that trouble to hide the book and also the parchment in the book. Let us sit down and see what you can make of it.” So they sat down and Aline was soon deeply interested in the account of the building, how the great dining hall was erected first, then the buttery, pantry and kitchen and afterwards the beautiful solar. Audry found her interest flag; although, when it came to the building of her room and the cost of the different items, she brightened up. “Still,” she said, “I do not see why all this should be kept so secret; any one might know all that we have read.” There was one thing that seemed to promise interest, | SECRETS as it would go, the whole lock eould be pulled forward like a little door on a hinge, revealing a small cavity behind. Both children started and peered eagerly into the space disclosed, where they found a very thin little leather book which was dropping to pieces with old age. They took it out and examined it and found that the cover had separated so as to lay open what had been a secret pocket in the cover, whieh contained a piece of stout parchment the same size as the pages of the book. :zzz:z: trinmphantly, with a twinkle in her dark blue eyes. ''That depends whether it is interesting,'' Audry replied. ''It seems to be an aceount of the building of Holwick Hall; but what is the use of this curious piece of pareh- ment with all these holes eut in it2'' ''Perhaps you can find out if you read the book,'' sug- gested Audry, ''It certainly must be of some impor- tance or they would not have taken all that trouble to hide the book and also the parehment in the book. Let us sit down and see what you can make of it,'' So they sat down and Aline was soon deeply interested in the aeeount of the building, how the great dining hall was erected first, then the buttery, pantry and kitchen and afterwards the beautiful solar. Audry found her interest flag ; although, when it eame to the building of her room and the cost of the different items, she bright- ened up. ''Stll,'' she said, ''I do not see why all this should be kept so secret; any one might know all that ''ZCCCCC-- =+=++=== |
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| SECRETS 19 derful charm of figure! Her colouring was as remarkable as her form. The hair was of a deep dark red, somewhat of the colour beloved by Titian, but with more gloss and glow although a little lower in tone; that colour which one meets perhaps once in a lifetime, a full rich undoubted red, but without a suspicion of the garishness and harshness that belongs to most red hair. The eyes were of the dark ultramarine blue only found among the Keltic peoples and even then but rarely, like the darkest blue of the Mediterranean Sea, when the sapphire hue is touched with a hint of purple. “What is a heretic?” Audry asked; “I am sure you know.” “I do not know that I do, but I remember father saying something to me about it before he died. He said that they were people who were not satisfied with the way that things were going in the church and that in particular they denied that it was only through the priests of the church that God spoke to his people. They say that the priests are no better than any one else and indeed are sometimes even worse.” “I do not know that they claim to be better than other people,” objected Audry. “Well, dear, I am not defending the heretics. I only say what they think. They do feel, however, that if the priests really were the special channels of God that that fact itself would make them better. So, many of them say that God can and does speak directly to all of us himself, and they all think that it is in the Bible that we can best learn what he desires, and that the Bible should therefore be translated into the language of the people. “‘This has been the cause of great troubles in the | SECRETS derful charm of figure! Her colouring was as remark- able as her form. The hair was of a deep dark red, some- what of the colour beloved by Titian, but with more gloss and glow although a little lower in tone ; that colour which one meets perhaps once in a lifetime, a full rieh nndoubted red, but without a suspieion of the gar- ishness and harshness that belongs to most red hair. The eyes were of the dark ultramarine blue only found among the Eeltic peoples and even then but rarely, like the darkest blue of the Mediterranean Sea, when the sapphire hue is touched with a hint of purple. 'What is a heretiet'' Audry asked; ''I am sure you know,'' ''I do not know that I do, but I remember father say- ing something to me about it before he died. He said that they were people who were not satisfied with the way that things were going in the church and that in partieu- lar they denied that it was only through the priests of the church that God spoke to his people. They say that the priests are no better than any one else and itndeed are sometimes even worse,'' ''Ido not know that they claim to be better than other people,'' objected Audry, 'Well, dear, I am not defending the hereties. I only say what they think. They do feel, however, that if the priests really were the special channels of God that that fact itself would make them better. So, many of them say that God can and does speak directly to all of us him- self, and they all think that it is in the Bible that we can best learn what he desires, and that the Bible should therefore be translated innto the language of the people. ''This has been the cause of great troubles in the |
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| 20 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT world for these many years,’ father said, ‘but, little maid, do not trouble your head about it now; when you are older we can talk about it.’” “Are the heretics such very wicked people then, do you think, Aline?” Aline put her little white hand to her chin and looked down. “I do not know what to think about it,” she said. “I suppose that they are, but they do not seem to be treated fairly.” “I hate unfairness,” said Audry in her impulsive way. “I do not see why they should not be allowed to speak for themselves, and I do not see how people can condemn them when they do not know what their reasons are for thinking what they do. Of course I am very young and do not know anything about it; but it sounds as though the priests were afraid that the truth can not take care of itself; but surely it cannot be the truth if it is afraid to hear the other side. I remember a motto on the chimney piece at home,—‘Magna veritas est et prevalebit,’ and it seems to me that it must be so. I wish that father were alive to talk to me. He was so clever and he understood things.” “But you have not said what your motto means,” Audry interposed. Aline laughed through the tears that were beginning to gather,—“Oh, that means, The truth is great and will prevail. If it is the truth it must win; and it can do it no harm to have objections raised against it, as it will only make their error more clear.” “What about the book, Aline?” said Audry, changing the subject; “no one is likely to come up here now, they never do; so I think we could have another look at it.” | THE CHILLD OF THE MOAT world for these many years,' father said, 'but, little maid, do not trouble your head about it now ; when you are older we can talk about it,' ' ''Are the hereties such very wicked people then, do you think, Alinet'' Aline put her little white hand to her chin and looled down, ''I do not know what to think about it,'' she said. ''I suppose that they are, but they do not seem to be treated fairly,'' ''Ihate unfairness,'' said Audry in her impulsive way. ''I do not see why they should not be allowed to speak for themselves, and I do not see how people ean condemn them when they do not know what their reasons are for thinking what they do. Of eourse I am very young and do not know anything about it; but it sounds as though the priests were afraid that the truth can not take eare of itself; but surely it eannot be the truth if it is afraid to hear the other side, I remember a motto on the chim- ney piece at home,--Magna veritas est et prevalebit,' and it seems to me that it must be so. I wish that father were alive to tallc to me. He was so clever and he un- derstood things,'' ''But you have not said what your motto means,'' Au- dry interposed. Aline laughed through the tears that were beginning to gather,-''Oh, that means, The truth is great and will prevail. If it ia the truth it must win ; and it can do it no harm to have objections raised against it, as it will only make their error more elear.'' 'tWhat about the book, Alinet'' said Audry, changing the subject; ''no one is likely to come up here now, they never do; so I think we could have another look at it,'' |
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| SECRETS 21 Aline picked up the book and opened it; she paused for a moment and then gave a little cry,—“I have found out what the parchment is for; come and look here.” Audry came and looked. “I do not see anything,” she said. “Look at the parchment; do you not see one or two letters showing through nearly all the little holes?” “Yes.” “What are they?” “b. u. t. o. n. e. m. u. s. t. s. e. e. t. h. a. t. a. l. i. g. h. t. i. s. n. e. v. e. r. c. a. r. r. i. e. d. i. n. f. r. o. n. t. o. f. t. h. e. s. l. i. t. s. i. n. t. h. e.,” read Audry, a letter at a time. “And what does that spell?” said Aline. “Oh, I see,— It spells, ‘but one must see that a light is never carried in front of the slits in the.’ How clever of you to find it out!” “Well, it was more or less accident; the parchment is exactly the size of the paper and as I shut the book I naturally made it all even. So, when I opened it in this room, it was lying even on the page and I could not help seeing the letters and what they spelt.” “I should never have noticed it, Aline; why I did not even notice at once that the letters spelt anything after you had shown me.” “Let us go back to the beginning and then,” said Aline, “we shall discover what it is all about.” So she turned to the beginning of the book and placed the parchment over the page and found that it began like this;—“Having regard to the changes and misfortunes of this life and the dangers that we may incur, I have provided for myself and my heirs a place of refuge and a way of escape in the evil day. This book contain- | SECRETS Aline pieked up the book and opened it; she paused for a moment and then gave a little cry,-''I have found out what the parehment is for ; eome and look here.'' Audry eame and looled, ''I do not see anything,'' she said. ''Look at the parehment; do you not see one or two letters showing through nearly all the little holest'' 'Yes.'' ''What are theyt'' ''b, u, t. o, n, e, m. u, s, t. s, e, e, t, h, a, t, a, l. i g, h. t. i. s, n, e, v. e,r, e, a,r, r, i,e, d.in, f. r, o,n, t, o, f, t. h, e. s, 1, i, t. s, i n,t, h. e.,'' read Audry, a letter at a time. ''And what does that spellt'' said Aline. ''Oh, I see,-- It spells, 'but one must see that a light is never earried in front of the slits in the.' How elever of you to find it out!'' ''Well, it was more or less aceident; the parchment is esactly the size of the paper and as I shut the book II natnrally made it all even. So, when I opened it in this room, it was lying even on the page and I eould not help seeing the letters and what they spelt.'' ''I should never have notieed it, Aline ; why I did not even notiee at once that the letters spelt anything after you had shown me,'' ''Let us go back to the beginning and then,'' said Aline, ''we shall diseover what it is all about.'' So she turned to the beginning of the book and placed the parehment over the page and found that it began like this ;--''Having regard to the changes and misfor- tunes of this life and the dangers that we may inennr, I have provided for myself and my heirs a place of refuge and a way of eseape in the evil day. This book eontain- |
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| SECRETS 23 “You must not keep interrupting then,” said Aline and continued her reading. “‘Now the bottom of this kist can be lifted for half its breadth, if the nail head with the largest rosette below the central hinge be drawn forth. After so doing, the outer edge of the plank next the wall in the bottom of the chest can be pushed down slightly, which will cause the inner edge to rise a little. This can then be taken by the hand and lifted. In exactly the same manner the plank of the floor immediately underneath can be raised.’ “I hope you understand it all,” Aline remarked. “I am not quite sure that I do,” said Audry. “Yes, I think it is quite clear; it’s very like the way the lid works on the old sword-kist.” “But we cannot get into the library and, even if we could,” said Audry, “the kist might be locked.” | SECRETS ''You must not keep interrapting then,'' said Aline and continued her reading. '' 'Now the bottom of this kist can be lifted for half its breadth, if the nail head with the largest rosette below the central hinge be drawn forth. After so doing, the outer edge of the plank nest the wall in the bottom. of the chest can be pushed down slightly, whieh will canse the inner edge to rise a little. This can then be taken by the hand and lifted. In es- T HE sn-w SORD- KiST, T'. Y .a=-*T 4Y. -- -)i 4E) : . : --. V ==== .- -; ' y -' --; -TT e 4 Z+-- . =, -- : - s2 %.- -E- -e-- = zsE 5---- '' -SSdrr- 6 actly the same manner the plank of the floor immediately underneath can be raised.' ''I hope you understand it all,'' Aline remarked. ''I am not quite sure that I do,'' said Audry, ''Yes, I think it is quite clear ; it's very like the way the lid works on the. old sword-kist,'' ''But we cannot get into the library and, even if we could,'' said Audry, ''the kist might be locked.'' |
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| 26 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT as the bottom rested on the arm of a weighted lever. It looked very gloomy inside but the children were determined to go on. They then found that there was just comfortable room for them to go backwards down the stairs and that there would have been room even for a big man to manage it without much difficulty. There were many cobwebs and once or twice their light threatened to go out; but at last they reached the bottom, crawling on hands and knees the whole way. There they found a long narrow passage, in the thickness of the wall, of immense length. They went along this for a great distance and then began to get frightened. “Where ever can we have got to?” Audry said at length. “It is quite clear that we are wrong,” said Aline, “as the library, we know, is just at the bottom of the newel-stair and the book said that the secret room was just underneath the library. We must go back.” “What if we go wrong again and lose our way altogether, Aline, and never get out of this horrible place?” It was a terrible thought; and the damp smell and forbidding looking narrow stone passage had a strange effect on the children’s nerves. Then another thought occurred to Aline that made them still more nervous. There were occasional slits along the wall for ventilation and she remembered the words that she had read by chance when she first discovered the use of the parchment. Supposing that their light should be seen; what would happen to them then? and yet they dare not put it out and be left in the dark. “I wish that we had never come,” said Audry as they hurried along the difficult passage. They reached the | THE CHILD OF THE MOAT as the bottom rested on the arm of a weighted lever. It looked very gloomy inside but the children were de- termined to go on, They then found that there was just oomfortable room for them to go backwards down the stairs and that there would have been room even for a big man to manage it without much diffieulty. There were many cobwebs and once or twice their light threat- ened to go out; but at last they reached the bottom, crawling on hands and knees the whole way. There they found a long narrow passage, in the thickness of the wall, of immense length. They went along this for a great distance and then began to get frightened. ''Where ever can we have got tot'' Audry said at length. ''It is quite clear that we are wrong,'' said Aline, ''as the library, we know, is just at the bottom of the newel-stair and the book said that the secret room. was just underneath the library. We must go back,'' ''What if we go wrong again and lose our way alto- gether, Aline, and never get out of this horrible plaeet'' It was a terrible thought; and the damp smell and forbidding looking narrow stone passage had a strange effect on the children's nerves, Then another thought oceurred to Aline that made them still more nervous, There were occasional slits along the wall for ventilation and she remembered the words that she had read by chance when she first discovered the use of the parch- ment. Supposing that their light shoul be seen ; what would happen to them thenf and yet they dare not put it out and be left in the ark. ''I wish that we had never eome,'' said Audry as they hurried along the difieult passage. They reached the |
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| SECRETS 27 bottom of the stair and felt a little reassured. They then saw that the passage turned sharply back on itself and led in a step or two to a door. It was of very stout oak and plated with iron. They opened it and found that it had eight great iron bolts that could be shut on that side. Within was a second door equally strong and, on opening that, they found themselves in the secret room itself. It was a long apartment only about eight feet high, and was panelled throughout with oak. There was a large and beautiful stone fireplace, above which was the inscription,—“Let there be no fire herein save that the fires above be lit.” “That must be in case the smoke should show,” said Aline; “how careful they have been with every little thing!” The room was thick with dust and obviously had not been entered for many many years. Even if the present occupants of Holwick knew of the secret room at all, which probably they did not, it was clear that they never made any use of their knowledge. There was a magnificent old oak bed in one corner but some of the bedding was moth-eaten and destroyed. There were also many little conveniences in the room, amongst other things a small book-case containing several books. On the whole it was a distinctly pleasant apartment despite the absence of any visible windows. There were even one or two pictures on the walls. In one corner on the outer wall was a door, which the children opened, and which clearly led to the underground passage below the moat; but they decided not to examine any more that night. So they made their way up the stairs again back to their room. | SECRETS bottom of the stair and felt a little reassured. They then saw that the passage turned sharply back on itself and led in a step or two to a door. It was of very stout oak and plated with iron. They opened it and found that it had eight great iron bolts that could be shut on that side, Within was a second door eqnally strong and, on opening that, they found themselves in the secret room itself. It was a long apartment only about eight feet high, and was panelled throughout with oak. There was a large and beautiful stone fireplace, above which was the inscription,--''LLet there be no fire herein save that the fires above be lit,'' ''That must be in case the smoke should show,'' said Aline; ''how eareful they have been with every little thing !'' The room. was thiek with dust and obviously had not been entered for many many years, Even if the present occupants of Eolwick knew of the secret room at all, whieh probably they did not, it was elear that they never made any use of their knowledge. There was a magnificent old oak bed in one corner but some of the bedding was moth-eaten and destroyed. There were also many little conveniences in the room, amongst other things a small book-case containing several books. On the whole it was a distinetly pleasant apartment despite the absence of any visible windows. There were even one or two pictures on the walls. In one corner on the outer wall was a door, whieh the children opened, and which clearly led to the underground passage below the moat; but they decided not to esamine any more that night. So they made their way up the stairs again back to their room. |
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| 28 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT They were almost too excited to sleep and Aline, as her custom was, when she lay awake, amused herself by building castles in the air. Sometimes she would imagine herself as a great lady, sought after by all the noble knights of the land, but holding herself aloof with reserved dignity until one, by some deed of unusual distinction, should win her favour. As a rule, however, this seemed rather a dull part to play, though there was something naturally queenly in her nature, and she would therefore prefer something more active. She would take the old Scots romance of Burd Helen, or Burd Aline, as her own inspiration, and follow her knight in the disguise of a page over mountain and torrent and through every hardship. This better suited the romantic self-sacrifice of her usual moods and, by its imaginary deeds of heroism, ministered just as much to her sense of exaltation. To-night had opened vistas of new suggestion; and she pictured her knight and herself fleeing before a host of enemies and miraculously disappearing at the critical moment into the secret room. But at last she fell into a sound slumber and did not wake till it was nearly time for the morning meal. | THE CHILD OF THE MOAT They were almost too excited to sleep and Aline, as her custom was, when she lay awake, amused herself by building castles in the air. Sometimes she would imagine herself as a great lady, sought after by all the noble knights of the land, but holding herself aloof with reserved dignity uuntil one, by some deed of unusual distinction, should win her favour. As a rule, however, this seemed rather a dull part to play, though there was something naturally queenly in her nature, and she would therefore prefer something more active. She would take the old Seots romance of Burd Helen, or Burd Aline, as her own inspiration, and follow her knight in the disguise of a page over mountain and torrent and through every hardship. This better suited the romantie self-sacrifice of her nsual moods and, by its imaginary deeds of heroism, ministered just as much to her sense of exaltation. To-night had opened vistas of new suggestion ; and she pictured her knight and her- self ffeeing before a host of enemies and miraculosly disappearing at the critieal moment into the secret room. IBut at last she fell into a sound slumber and did not wake till it was nearly time for the morning meal. |
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| CHAPTER III HATE AND LOVE ALINE certainly did not belong to any ordinary type and she would have puzzled the psychologist to classify. She was so many sided as to be in a class by herself. She had plenty of common sense and intelligence for her years and an outlook essentially fair minded and just. But she also had a quiet hauteur, curiously coupled with humility, and at the same time a winning manner that was irresistible; so that the strange thing was that she had only to ask and most people voluntarily submitted to her desires. This unusual power might have been very dangerous to her character and spoiled her, had it not been that what she wanted was almost always just and reasonable and moreover she never used her power for her own benefit. Further, her humble estimate of her own capacity for judgment caused her but rarely to exercise the power at all. In practice it was almost confined to those cases where a sweet minded child’s natural instinct for fair play sees further than the sophistries of the adult. She was practically unaware of this power, which was destined to bring her into conflict with Eleanor Mowbray; nor did she take the least delight, as she might easily have done, in exercising power for power’s sake. 29 | A A 3 Ctuxu a AAuv AA4 HATE AND LOVE TLINE certainly did not belong to any ordinary tYpe and she would have puzzled the psyehol- ogist to classify. She was so many sided as to be in. a class by herself. She had plenty of common sense and intelligenee for her years and an ontlook essentially fair minded and just. But she also had a qniet hauteur, curiously coupled with humility, and at the same time a winning manner that was irresistible; so that the strange thing was that she had only to ask and most people voluntarily submitted to her desires. This nnusual power might have been very dangerous to her character and spoiled her, had it not been that what she wanted was almost always just and reason- able and moreover she never nsed her power for her own benefit. Further, her humble estimate of her own capacity for jadgment caused her but rarely to exercise the power at all, In practiee it was almost confined to those cases where a sweet minded child 's natural in- stinet for fair play sees further than the sophistries of the adult. She was practieally unaware of this power, whieh was destined to bring her into confliet with Eleanor MIowbray ; nor did she take the least delight, as she might easily have done, in exercising power for power's sake. |
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| 30 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT Eleanor Mowbray, on the other hand, like so many women, loved power. Masculine force has so largely monopolised the more obvious manifestations of power that it might be said to be almost a feminine instinct to snatch at all opportunities that offer themselves. Be that as it may, Mistress Mowbray loved to use power for the sake of using it; she loved to make her household realise that she was mistress. She did not exactly mean to be unkind, but they were servants and they must feel that they were servants. Her attitude to them was that of the servant who has risen or the one so commonly exhibited toward servants by small girls, that puzzles and disgusts their small brothers. She would address them contemptuously, or would impatiently lose her self-control and shout at them. She lacked consideration and would call them from their main duties to perform petty services, which she could perfectly well have done for herself. This was irritating to the servants and there was always a good deal of friction. The servants tended to lose their loyalty and, when once the bond of common interest was broken, what did it matter to Martha, the laundry-maid, that she one day scorched and destroyed the most cherished and valuable piece of lace that Mistress Mowbray possessed; or of what concern was it to Edward, the seneschal, that in cleaning the plate, he broke the lid off her pouncet box and not only did not trouble to tell her, but when charged with it, coolly remarked, after the manner of his kind,—“Oh, it came to pieces in my hands!� On one occasion, before the discovery of the secret room, when Edward was away, Thomas, a sly unprin- | TIE CHILD OF THE MOAT JEleanor Mlowbray, on the other hand, like so many women, loved power. Maseuline force has so largely monopolised the more obvious manifestations of power that it might be said to be almost a feminine instinet to snateh at all opportunities that offer themselves. Be that as it may, Mistress Mowbray loved to use power for the sake of using it; she loved to make her household realise that she was mistress. She did not esactly mean to be nnkind, but they were servants and they must feel that they were servants. Ier attitude to them was that of the servant who has risen or the one so commonly exhibited toward servants by small girls, that puzzles and disgusts their small brothers. She would address them contemptuously, or would impatiently lose her self-eontrol and shout at them. She lacked consideration and would call them from their main duties to perform petty services, whieh she could perfeetly well have done for herself. This was irri- tating to the servants and there was always a good deal of friction. The servants tended to lose their loyalty and, when once the bond of common interest was broken, what did it matter to Martha, the laundry-maid, that she one day seorehed and destroyed the most eherished and yaluable piece of lace that Mistress Mowbray pos- sessed ; or of what coneern was it to Edward, the seneschal, that in cleaning the plate, he broke the lid off her pouneet box and not only did not trouble to tell her, but when charged with it, eoolly remarked, after the manner of his kind,-''Oh, it came to pieces in my hands!'' On one oceasion, before the discovery of the seeret room, when Edward was away, Thomas, a sly unprin- |
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| 32 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT walk up and down the hall. The children were generally allowed to go out after dinner and amuse themselves, but it was a wet day and Aline was looking disconsolately out of the window wondering whether she should go into the library or what she should do, when the angry dame thought that the child offered an object for the further exercise of her power. “Why are you idling there?” she said. “They are all short-handed to-day, go you and scour out the sink and then take out the pig-bucket and be quick about it.” Aline gave a little gasp of surprise, but ran off at once. The buttery door was open and she saw Thomas drinking and offering a tankard to one of the other servants, and she heard him laugh loudly as he pointed to a row of goblets, four of them clean and the rest of them dirty, while he said,—“Edward cleaned those, and I am waiting here as long as it would take to clean them.” He caught sight of her and scowled, but she passed on. Aline had soon finished the sink and ran quickly with the pig-bucket, after which she returned to the dining hall to tell Mistress Mowbray she had finished. Thomas had just come in, so she stood and waited. He held up the four goblets on a tray for Mistress Mowbray to inspect. “Yes, those are better, Thomas,” she said frigidly. Thomas could not conceal a faint smile and the lady became suspicious. “By the way, Thomas, there are a dozen of these goblets, bring me the others.” “Yes, Mistress,” said Thomas, triumphantly, “but they were all dirty and I have just cleaned these.” Mistress Mowbray saw that she could not catch him | TIE CHILD OF THE MOAT walk np and down the hall, The children were gen- erally allowed to go out after dinner and amuse them- selves, but it was a wet day and Aline was looking disconsolately out of the window wondering whether she should go into the library or what she should do, when the angry dame thought that the child offered an object for the further exercise of her power. ''Why are you idling theret'' she said. ''They are all short- handed to-day, go you and scour out the sink and then take out the pig-bucket and be quick about it,'' Aline gave a little gasp of surprise, but ran off at once, The buttery door was open and she saw Thomas drinking and offering a tankard to one of the other servants, and she heard hitm laugh loudly as he pointed to a row of goblets, four of them clean and the rest of them dirty, while he said,-''Edward cleaned those, and II am waiting here as long as it would take to clean them.'' Ee caught sight of her and scowled, but shhe passed on, Aline had soon finished the sink and ran quickly with the pig-bucket, after which she returned to the diniig hall to tell Mistress Mowbray she had finished. Thomas had just come in, so she stood and waited. He held up the four goblets on a tray for Mistress MIowbray to inspect. ''Yes, those are better, Thomas,'' she said frigidly. Thomas could not conceal a faint smile and the lady became suspicious. ''By the way, Thomas, there are a dozen of these goblets, bring me the others,'' ''5es, Mistress,'' said Thomas, triumphantly, ''but they were all dirty and I have just cleaned these.'' Mistress Mowbray saw that she could not catch him |
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| 34 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT considered degrading occupations. It was for this reason therefore that Aline was set to scour sinks, scrub floors and empty slops, with no deliberate attempt to be unkind, but simply to feed the love of power. As a matter of fact, so long as the tasks remained within her physical strength, Aline was too much of a lady to mind and, if need had been, would have cleaned out a stable, a pigsty or a sewer itself, with grace and dignity and even have lent distinction to such occupations. But these very qualities led to further antagonism on Eleanor Mowbray’s part. They were part of that power of the true lady that in Aline was developed to an almost superhuman faculty and which went entirely beyond any power of which Mistress Mowbray even dreamed and yet without the child making any effort to get it. Aline herself indeed was unconscious of her strength as anything exceptional. She had been brought up by her father, practically alone and had not as yet come to realise how different she was from other children. It was the morning after the discovery of the secret room that Mistress Mowbray had the first indication that Aline had a power that might rival her own. It was a small incident, but it sank deeply and Eleanor Mowbray did not forget it. She was expecting a number of guests to dinner and it looked as though nothing would be ready in time. She rushed to and fro from the hall to the kitchen upbraiding the servants and talking in a loud and domineering tone. But the servants, who were working as hard as the average of their class, became sullen and | THE CHILD OF THE MOAT considered degrading oceupations. It was for this reason therefore that Aline was set to scour sinks, scrub floors and empty slops, with no deliberate attempt to be unkind, but simply to feed the love of power. As a matter of fact, so long as the tasks remained within her physieal strength, Aline was too much of a lady to mind and, if need had been, would have cleaned out a stable, a pigsty or a sewer itself, with grace and dignity and even have lent distinction to such occu- pations. Bnt these very qualities led to further antagonism on Eleanor MIowbray's part. They were part of that power of the true lady that in Aline was developed to an almost superhuman faculty and which went entirely beyond any power of which Mistress MIowbray even dreamed and yet without the child making any effort to get it. Aline herself indeed was unconscious of her strength as anything eseeptional. She had been brought np by her father, practieally alone and had not as yet come to realise how different she was from other ehildren, It was the morning after the discovery of the seeret room that Mistress Mowbray had the frst indieation that Aline had a power that might rival her own, It was a small ineident, but it sank deeply and Eleanor Mowbray did not forget it. She was expecting a number of guests to dinner and it looked as though nothing would be ready in time. She rushed to and fro from the hall to the kitehen up- braiding the servants and talking in a loud and dom- ineering tone. Bt the servants, who were working as hard as the average of their class, became sullen and |
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| HATE AND LOVE 35 went about their labours with less rather than more effort. Eleanor Mowbray was furious and finding Aline still at her spinning wheel, where she herself had put her, “’Sdeath child,” she exclaimed, “this is no time for spinning, what possesses you? I cannot get those varlets to work, everything is in confusion,—knaves!—hussies!—go you to the kitchen and lend a hand and that right speedily.” Aline felt sorry for her hostess, who certainly was like enough to have her entertainment spoilt. She had already noticed that the servants in the hall were very half-hearted, so she said, “I will do what I can, Mistress Mowbray, perhaps I might help to get them to work.” “You, indeed,” said the irate lady, “ridiculous child!—but go along and assist to carry the dishes.” Aline rose and passed into the screens and down the central passage to the kitchen. The place was filled with loud grumbling, almost to the verge of mutiny. As the queenly little figure stood in the doorway, the servants nudged each other and the voices straightway subsided. “Hush, she will be telling tales,” said one of the maids quietly. “Nonsense,” said Elspeth, Audry’s old nurse, who was assisting, “surely you know the child better than that.” For a moment or two Aline did not speak and a strange feeling of shame seemed to pervade the place. “Elspeth,” said Aline, while the flicker of a smile betrayed her, “if you run about so, you’ll wear out your | HATE AND LOVE went about their labours with less rather than more offort. Eleanor Mowbray was furious and finding Aline still at her spinning wheel, where she herself had put her, '' 'Sdeath ehild,'' she eselaimed, ''this is no time for spinning, what possesses yout I cannot get those var- lets to work, everything is in confusion,--knaves !-- hussies !--go you to the kitehen and lend a hand and that right speedily,'' Aline felt sorry for her hostess, who certainly was like enough to have her entertainment spoilt. She had already notieed that the servants in the hall were very half-hearted, so she said, ''I will do what I ean, Mis- tress Mowbray, perhaps I might help to get them to work.'' ''You, indeed,'' said the irate lady, ''ridieulous child ! -but go along and assist to carry the dishes.'' Aline rose and passed into the screens and down the central passage to the kitehen, The place was filled with loud grumbling, almost to the verge of mutiny. As the queenly little figure stood in the doorway, the servants nudged each other and the voiees straightway subsided. ''Hush, she will be telling tales,'' said one of the maids quietly. ''Nonsense,'' said Elspeth, Audry's old nurse, who was assisting, ''surely you know the child better than that.'' For a moment or two Aline did not speak and a strange feeling of shame seemed to pervade the place. ''Elspeth,'' said Aline, while the flieker of a smile be- trayed her, ''if you run about so, you'll wear out your |
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| 36 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT shoon; you should sit on the table and swing your feet like Joseph there.” “Now, hinnie, why for are you making fun of an old body?” “I would not make fun of you for anything,” said Aline; “but look at his shoon; are they not fine,—and his beautiful lily-white hands?” “Look as if you never did a day’s work, Joe,” said Silas, the reeve. “Oh, no, he works with his brain, he’s thinking,” said Aline, putting her hand to her brow with mock gravity. “He’s reckoning up his fortune. How much is it, Joseph?” “Methinks his fortune will all be reckonings,” said Silas, “for he’ll never get any other kind.” “Well, we’ll change the subject; there’s going to be a funeral here to-night,” Aline observed. “No, really?” exclaimed half a dozen voices. “Yes, it’s a terrible story and it really ought not to be known; but you’ll keep it secret I know,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. As they crowded round her she went on in mysterious tones, “You know John Darley and Philip Emberlin.” “Yes,” said Joe, rousing himself to take in the situation, “they are coming here to-night.” “They’ve a long way to come and they are not strong,” said Aline, “and they will arrive hungry and just have to be buried, because there was nothing to eat. Yes, it’s a sad story; I’m not surprised to see the tears in your eyes, Joseph, and, in fact, in a manner of speaking you might say that you will have killed them, you and your accomplices,” she added, looking round. | THE CHILD OF THE MOAT shoon ; you should sit on the table and swing your feet like Joseph there.'' ''Now, hinnie, why for are you making fun of an old body1'' ''I would not make fun of you for anything,'' said Aline; ''but look at his shoon ; are they not fine,--and his beautiful lily-white handst'' ''Look as if you never did a day's work, Joe,'' said Silas, the reeve. ''Oh, no, he works with his brain, he's thinking,'' said Aline, pntting her hand to her brow with mock gravity. ''Ee's reckoning up his fortune. How much is it, Jo- seph?'' ''Methinks his fortane will all be reckonings,'' sail Silas, ''for he'll never get any other kind.'' ''Well, we'll change the snbject; there's going to be a funeral here to-night,'' Aline observed. ESz2-- be known ; but you'll keep it secret I know,'' she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. As they crowded round her she went on in mysterious tones, ''You know John Darley and Philip Emberlin.'' ''Yess,'' said Joe, rousing himself to take in the situa- tion, ''they are coming here to-night.'' ''They 've a long way to come and they are not strong,'' said Aline, ''and they will arrive hungry and just have to be buried, because there was nothing to eat. Yes, it's a sad story ; Im not surprised to see the tears in your.eyes, Joseph, and, in fact, in a manner of speal- ing you might say that you will have killed them, you and your aeeompliees,'' she added, looking round. |
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| HATE AND LOVE 37 A good tempered laugh greeted this last sally. “Marry, we have much to get through. How can I help? It would be a sorry thing that Holwick should be disgraced before its guests. Give me something to do.” There was nothing in the words, but the tone was one of dignity combined with gentleness and sympathy. The effect was peculiar;—no one felt reproved, but felt rather as though there was full sympathy with his own point of view; yet at the same time he was conscious that he would lose his own dignity if he became querulous and allowed the honour of the house to suffer. Aline helped for a short time and then, leaving them for a moment all cheerful and joking but working with a will, she looked into the buttery, where she saw Thomas and Edward, the seneschal, a pompous but good hearted fellow, merely talking and doing nothing. “You are not setting us a good example,” she said laughing; “everybody else is working so hard,” and then she added in a tone that combined something of jest, something of command and something of a coaxing quality, “do try to keep things going; Master Richard would be much put about if he failed in his hospitality.” This time there was undoubtedly a very gentle sting in the tone that pricked Edward’s vanity; yet his own conscience smote him, so that he bore no ill will. He said nothing, however, but Thomas remarked;—“Yes, Mistress Aline, the sin of idleness is apt to get hold of us, we must to our work as you say.” Aline raised her eyebrows slightly, the ill-bred vulgarity of the remark was too much for her sensitive nature. Thomas was marked by that lack of refinement | = AND LOVE A good tempered laugh greeted this last sally. ''Marry, we have mueh to get through. How can I helpf It would be a sorry thing that HHolwiek should be disgraced before its guests, Give me something to ddo.'' There was nothing in the words, but the tone was one of dignity combined with gentleness and sympathy. The effect was peculiar ;--no one felt reproved, but felt rather as though there was full sympathy with his own point of view ; yet at the same time he was con- seious that he would lose his own dignity if he became qruerulous and allowed the honour of the house to suffer. Aline helped for a short time and then, leaving them for a moment all cheerful and joking but working with a will, she looled into the buttery, where she saw Thomas and Edward, the seneschal, a pompous but good hearted fellow, merely talking and doing nothing. ''You are not setting us a good example,'' she said laughing ; ''everybody else is working so hard,'' and then she added in a tone that combined something of jest, something of eommand and something of a coaxing qual- ity, ''do try to keep things going ; Master Richard would be much put about if he failed in his hospitality,'' This time there was undoubtedly a very gentle sting in the tone that prieked Edward's vanity ; yet his own conscience smote him, so that he bore no ill will, Ee said nothing, however, but Thomas remarked ;- ''Yes, MIistress Aline, the sin of idleness is apt to get hold of us, we must to our work as you say,''. Aline raised her eyebrows slightly, the ill-brcd vnl- garity of the remark was too much for her sensitive nature. Thomas was marked by that lack of refinement |
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| 38 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT that cheapens all that is noble and good by ostentatious piety and sentimentality. Aline gave a little shiver and passed on to do the same with the others. She also took her full share in the work, so that in fifteen minutes everything was moving smoothly. It was done entirely out of kindness, but Eleanor Mowbray felt that it was a triumph at her expense and although Aline had helped her out of a difficulty, she only bore a grudge against her. Thomas also was nettled. Aline had got the better of him; he suspected her, too, of seeing through his hypocrisy; which, as a matter of fact, she had only partially done, as she was so completely disgusted at his vulgarity that she did not look further. It was not till the afternoon that the children had any opportunity to pursue their own devices and they decided, as the day was fine and the storm had cleared away, that they would go down to the river near-by and see the waterfall before the water had had time greatly to abate. They did not go straight across the moor, but went by way of the small hamlet of Holwick. Everything looked bright and green after the rain, varied by the grey stone walls, that ran across the country, separating the little holdings. The distance was brilliantly blue and the wide spaciousness that characterises the great rolling moorland scenery was enhanced by the beauty of the day. The children turned into the second cottage which was even humbler than its neighbours. It was a long, low, thatched building, roughly built of stone with clay instead of mortar. Within, a portion was divided off | == smu.D OF TIIE MOAT that cheapens all that is noble and good by ostentatious piety and sentimentality. Aline gave a little shiver and passed on to do the same with the others. She also took her full share in the work, so that in fifteen minutes everything was moving smoothly. It was done entirely out of kind- ness, but Eleanor MIowbray felt that it was a triamph at her espense and although Aline had helped her out of a difieulty, she only bore a grudge against her. Thomas also was nettled. Aline had got the better of him ; he suspeeted her, too, of seeing through his hypocrisy ; which, as a matter of fact, she had only partially done, as she was so completely disgusted at his vulgarity that she did not look further. It was not till the afternoon that the children had any opportunity to pursue their own devices and they decided, as the day was fine and the storm had cleared away, that they would go down to the river near-by and see the waterfall before the water had had time greatly to abate. They did not go straight across the moor, but went by way of the small hamlet of Holwiek. Everything looked bright and green after the rain, varied by the grey stone walls, that ran across the country, separat- ing the little holdings. The distance was brilliantly blue and the wide spaciousness that characterises the great rolling moorland scenery was enhaneed by the beauty of the day. The children turned into the second cottage which was even humbler than its neighbours. It was a long, low, thatehed building, roughly built of stone with elay instead of mortar. Within, a portion was divided of |
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| HATE AND LOVE 39 at one end by a wooden partition. There was no window save one small opening under the low eaves which was less than six feet from the ground. It was about eight inches square and filled with a piece of oiled canvas on a rudely made movable frame instead of glass. In warm weather it often stood open. The children stumbled as they entered the dark room and crossed the uneven floor of stamped earth. There was no movable furniture save one or two wooden kists or chests, a dilapidated spinning wheel and a couple of small stools. In the very middle of the floor was a fire of peats on a flat slab of stone in the ground and a simple hole in the roof allowed the choking smoke to escape after it had wandered round the whole building. An old man, bent double with rheumatism, hastened forward as the children came to the door and, holding out both his hands, shook Audry’s and Aline’s at the same time. “I am right glad to see you,” he said, “and may the Mother of God watch over you.” He quickly brought two stools and, carefully dusting them first, bade his young visitors sit down by the fire. “How is Joan to-day, Peter,” asked Aline, “she isn’t out again is she?” “No, Mistress Aline, she has been worse the last few days and is in bed, but maybe the brighter weather will soon see her out and about.” He hobbled over toward a corner of the cottage, where a box-bed stood out from the wall. It was closed in all around like a great cupboard, with sliding shutters in the front. These were drawn back, but the interior was concealed by a curtain. He drew aside this curtain and within lay a little girl about eleven years old | HATE AND LOVE at one end by a wooden partition. There was no win- dow save one small opening under the low eaves which was less than sis feet from the ground. It was about eight inches square and filled with a piece of oiled can- vas on a rudely made movable frame instead of glass. In warm weather it often stood open. The children stumbled as they entered the dark room and erossed the uneven floor of stamped earth. There was no movable furniture save one or two wooden kists or chests, a dilapidated spinning wheel and a couple of small stools. In the very middle of the floor was a fire of peats on a flat slab of stone in the ground and a simple hole in the roof allowed the choking smoke to escape after it had wandered round the whole building. An old man, bent double with rheumatism, hastened forward as the children came to the door and, holding out both his hands, shook Audry's and Aline's at the same time. ''I am right glad to see you,'' he said,''and may the Mother of God watch over you,'' Ie quiekly brought two stools and, earefully dusting them first, bade his young visitors sit down by the fire. ''How is Joan to-day, Peter,'' asked Aline, ''she isn 't out again is shet'' ''No, MIistress Aline, she has been worse the last few days and is in bed, but maybe the brighter weather will soon see her out and about,'' He hobbled over toward a corner of the cottage, where a box-bed stood out from the wall, It was closed in all around like a great eupboard, with sliding shutters in the front. These were drawn back, but the interior was concealed by a curtain. He drew aside this cur- tain and within lay a little girl about eleven years old |
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| 40 THE CHILD OF THE MOAT with thin wasted cheeks and hollow sunken eyes. She stretched out her small hand as the two children approached and a smile lit up the white drawn face. Aline stooped and kissed her. “Oh, Joan,” she said, “I wish you would get well, but it is always the same, no sooner are you up than you are back in bed again. I have been asking Master Mowbray about you and he has promised that the leech from Barnard Castle shall come and see you as soon as he can get word to him.” “It is good of you to think and plan about me, Mistress Aline, and I believe I am not quite so badly to-day, but I wish that horrid old ‘Moll o’ the graves’ would not come in here and look at me. She does frighten me so. Mother was always so frightened of Moll.” “She is a wretched old thing,” said Audry, “but do not let us think about her.” “You mustn’t thank us, anybody would do the same,” said Aline; “you cannot think how sorry we are to see you like this, and you must just call me Aline the same as I call you Joan. See! Audry and I have brought you a few flowers and some little things from the Hall that old Elspeth has put up for us, and when the leech comes, he will soon make you well again.” “I sometimes wonder whether I shall ever get well any more; each time I have to go back to bed I seem to be worse. All my folk are gone now and I am the only one left. The flowers are right bonnie though and the smell of them does me good,” she added, as she lifted the bunch of early carnations that the children had brought. After she had spoken she let her hand fall and lay | THE CHILD OF THE MOAT with thin wasted cheeks and hollow sunken eyes, She stretehed out her small hand as the two children ap- proaehed and a smile lit up the white drawn face. Aline stooped and kissed her. ''Oh, Joan,'' she said, ''I wish you would get well, but it is always the samc, no sooner are you up than you are baek in bed again. I have been asking MIaster Mowbray about you and he has promised that the leech from Barnard Castle shall come and see you as soon as he can get word to him.'' ''It is good of you to think and plan about me, Mis- tress Aline, and I believe I am not quite so badly to-day, but I wish that horrid old 'Moll o' the graves' would not eome in here and look at me. She does frightcn me so. Mother was always so frightened of Moll,'' ''She is a wretehed old thing,'' said Audry, ''but do not let us think about her.'' ''You mustn't thank uus, anybody would do the same,'' said Aline ; ''you cannot thinl how sorry we are to see you like this, and you must just call me Aline the same as I eall you Joan, See! Audry and I have brought you a few flowers and some little things from the Hall that old Elspeth has put up for us, and when the leech comes, he will soon male you well again,'' ''I sometimes wonder whether I shall ever get well any more ; each time I have to go back to bed I scem to be worse. All my folk are gone now and I am the only one left. The fdowers are right bonnie though and the smell of them. does me good,'' she added, as she lifted the bunch of early carnations that the children had ''''75C7,A4. yw4 == + w M >w4 we |
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| PREFACE. The subject which we have here treated is a sort of figurative battle-field, where fierce contests have for ages been from time to time waged; and, notwithstanding the determined assaults of the attacking hosts, the contention and its cause remain pretty much as they were at the commencement of the war. We in the matter remain strictly neutral, merely performing the part of the public's "own correspondent," making it our duty to gather together such extracts from despatches, both ancient and modern, as may prove interesting or important, to take note of the vicissitudes of war, mark its various phases, and, in fine, to do our best to lay clearly before our readers the historical facts—experiences and arguments—relating to the much-discussed "Corset question." As most of our readers are aware, the leading journals especially intended for the perusal of ladies have been for many years the media for the exchange of a vast number of letters and papers touching the use of the Corset. The questions relating to the history of this apparently indispensable article of ladies' attire, its construction, application, and influence on the figure have become so numerous of late that we have thought, by embodying all that we can glean and garner relating to Corsets, their wearers, and the various costumes worn by ladies at different periods, arranging the subject-matter in its due order as to dates, and at the same time availing ourselves of careful illustration when needed, that an interesting volume would result. | r P R E F A - e THE subject which we have here treated is a sort of figurative ] battle-field, where fierce contests have for ages been from time to time ] waged; and, notwithstanding the determined assaults of the attacking ] hosts, the contention and its cause remain pretty much as they were at the ] commencement of the war. We in the matter remain strictly neutral, ] merely performing the part of the public's '*own correspondent,' making ] it our duty to gather together such extracts from despatches, both ancient ] and modern, as may prove interesting or important, to take note of the ] vicissitudes of war, mark its various phases, and, in fine, to do our best ] to lay clearly before our readers the historical facts-esperiences and ] arguments-relating to the much-discussed ' Caret guetisn.'' As most of our readers are aware, the leading journals especially intended for the perusal of ladies have been for many years the media ] for the eschange of a vast number of letters and papers touching ] the use of the Corset. The questions relating to the history of ] this apparently indispensable article of ladies' attire, its construction, application, and influence on the figure have become so numerous of late ] that we have thought, by embodying all that we can glean and garner ] relating to Corsets, their wearers, and the various costumes worn by as o 4es, and a d s4me 6me availing ourseles of arefl illostradoa ] ladies at different periods, arranging the subject-matter in its due order when needed, that an interesting volume would result. --------l |
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| vi PREFACE. No one, we apprehend, would be likely to deny that, to enable the fairer portion of the civilised human race to follow the time-honoured custom of presenting to the eye the waist in its most slender proportions, the Corset in some form must be had recourse to. Our information will show how ancient and almost universal its use has been, and there is no reason to anticipate that its aid will ever be dispensed with so long as an elegant and attractive figure is an object worth achieving. Such being the case, it becomes a matter of considerable importance to discover by what means the desirable end can be acquired without injury to the health of those whose forms are being restrained and moulded into proportions generally accepted as graceful, by the use and influence of the Corset. It will be our duty to lay before the reader the strictures of authors, ancient and modern, on this article of dress, and it will be seen that the animadversions of former writers greatly exceed modern censures, both in number and fierceness of condemnation. This difference probably arises from the fact of Corsets of the most unyielding and stubborn character being universally made use of at the time the severest attacks were made upon them; and there can be no reasonable doubt that much which was written in their condemnation had some truth in it, although accompanied by a vast deal of fanciful exaggeration. It would also be not stating the whole of the case if we omitted here to note that modern authors, who launch sweeping anathemas on the very stays by the aid of which their wives and daughters are made presentable in society, almost invariably quote largely from scribes of ancient date, and say little or nothing, of their own knowledge. On the other hand, it will be seen that those | -w -ww--- =as-wer --sessssswsssswswwwssusss-w- wuuwu-.. cuuaa. HREFACE. No one, we apprehend, would be likcly to deny that, to enable the fairer portion of the ciyilised human race to follow the time-honoured custom of presenting to the eye the waist in its most slendcr pro- portions, the Corset in some form must be had recourse to, Our information will show how ancient and almost universal its use has been, and there is no reason to anticipate that its aid will ever be dispensed with so long as an elegant and attractive figure is an object worth achieving. Such being the case, it becomes a matter of considerable importance to discover by what means the desirable end can be acquired without injury to the health of those whose forms are being restrained and moulded into proportions generally accepted as graceful, by the use and influence of the Corset, It will be our duty to lay before the reader the strictures of authors, ancient and modern, on this article of dress, and it will be seen that the animadversions of fornt:r writers greatly exceed modern censures, both in number and fierceness of condemnation. This difference probably arises from the fact of Corsets of the most unyielding and stubborn character being universally made use of at the time the severest attacks were made upon them; and there can be no reasonable doubt that much which was written in their condemnatiot had some truth in it, although accompanied by a vast deal of fanciful esaggeration, It would also be not stating the whole of the case if we omitted here to note that modern authors, who launch sweeping anathemas on the very stays by the aid of which their wives and daughters are made presentable in society, almost invariably quote largely from scribes of ancient date, and say little or nothiag, of their own knowledge. On the other hand, it will be seen that those |
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| PREFACE. vii writing in praise of the moderate use of Corsets take their facts, experiences, and grounds of argument from the every-day life and general custom of the present period. The Crinoline is too closely associated with the Corset and with the mutable modes affected by ladies, from season to season, to be omitted from any volume which treats of Fashion. The same facts, indeed, may be stated of both the Crinoline and the Corset. Both appear to be equally indispensable to the woman of the present period. To make them serve the purposes of increased cleanliness, comfort, and grace, not only without injury to the health, but with positive and admitted advantage to the physique—these are the problems to be solved by those whose business it is to minister to the ever-changing taste and fashion of the day. | TREFACE. writing in praise of the moderate usc of Corsets take their facts, experiences, and grounds of argument from the every-day life and general custom of the prcsent period. The Crinoline is too closely associated with the Corset and with the mutable modes affected by ladies, from season to season, to be omitted from any volume which treats of Fashion. The same facts, indeed, may be stated of both the Crinoline and the Corset, Both appear to be equally indispensable to the woman of the prescnt period. To make them serve thie purposes of increased cleanliness, comfort, and grace, not only without injury to the health, but with positive and admitted advantage to the pbyrigue-these are the problems to be solved by those whose business it is to minister to the ever-changing taste and fashion of the day. 4+5 a--w L--4e e n3- -3eo zz, . g; =- , ' 7 e --n i A8A zST. 3 a w 4- N + 4 , 9 e 2 s' . -'- 23 +-+-=-w-=-awW444-4 aaascaSdzS.. 3..agg>A-r--arwe =aeaas . 3 |
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| 10 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. belles of the tribe were not slow in discovering that, when arrayed in all the panoply of forest finery, a belt well drawn in, as shown in the annexed illustration, served to display the figure to much greater advantage than one carelessly or loosely adjusted. Here, then, we find the first indication of the use of the corset as an article of becoming attire. At the very first dawn of civilisation there are distinct evidences of the use of contrivances for the reduction and formation of the female figure. Researches among the ruins of Polenqui, one of the mysterious forest cities of South America, whose history is lost in remote antiquity, have brought to light most singular evidences of the existence of a now forgotten race. Amongst the works of art discovered there is a bas-relief representing a female figure, which, in addition to a profusion of massive ornaments, wears a complicated and elaborate waist-bandage, which, by a system of circular and transverse folding and looping, confines the waist from just below the ribs to the hips as firmly and compactly as the most unyielding corset of the present day. At the period of the discovery of some of the islands of the Eastern Archipelago, it was found customary for all young females to wear a peculiar kind of corset, formed of spirally-arranged rattan cane, and this, when once put on, was not removed until the celebration of the marriage ceremony. Such races as were slowly advancing in the march of civilisation, after discovery by the early navigators, became more and more accustomed to the use of clothing, to adjust and retain which, waistbands would become essentially requisite. These, when made sufficiently broad to fit without undue friction, and stiff enough to prevent folding together in the act of stooping, sitting, or moving about, at once became in effect corsets, and suggested to the minds of the ingenious a system of cutting and fitting so as more perfectly to adapt them to the figure of the wearer. The modes of fastening, as we shall see, have been various, from the simple sewing together with the lace to the costly buckle and jewelled loop and stud. | THE CORSET ANTD THE CR1NOLINE. bolles of the tribe were not slow in discovering that, whcn arrayed in all the panoply of forest finery, a belt well drawn in, as shown in the annexed iiluustration, served to display the figure to much greater advan- tage than one carelessly or loosely adjusted, Here, then, we find the At the very first dawn of civilisation there are distinct evidences of he ] first indication of the use of the corset as an article of becoming attire. use of contrivances for the reduction and formation of the female figure. Researches among the ruins of Polenqui, one of the mysterious forest cities ------------ ---- of South America, whhose history is lost in remote antiquity, have brought to light most singular evidenccs of the existence of a now forgotten race. Amongst the works of art discovered there is a bas-relief repre- senting a female figure, which, in addition to a profusion of massive ornaments, wears a complicatcd and elaborate waist-bandage, which, by a system of circular and transverse folding and looping, confines the waist from just below the ribs to the hips as firmly and compactly as the most unyielding corset of the present day. Eastern Archhipelago, it was found customary for all young females to wear a peculiar kind of corset, formed of spirally-arranged rattan cane, and this, when once put on, was not removed until the celebration of the marriage ceremony. Such races as were slowly advancing in the march of civilisation, after discovery by the early navigators, became more and more accustomed to the use of clothing, to adjust and retain which, waistbands would become essentially requisite. These, when made sufficiently broad to fit without undue friction, and stiff enough to prevent folding together in the act of stooping, sitting, or moving about, at once became in effect corsets, and suggested to the minds of the ingenious a system of cutting and fitting so as more perfectly to adapt them to the figure of the wearer, The modes of fastening, as we shall see, have been various, from the simple sewing together with the lace to the costly buckle and iewelled loop and stud. |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 13 Investigation proves to us that the taste for slender waists prevailed even more in the Eastern nations than in those of Europe, and we find that other means besides that of compression have been extensively taken advantage of. Humboldt, in his personal narrative, describes the women of Java, and informs us that the reddish clay called "ampo" is eaten by them in order that they may become slim, want of plumpness being a kind of beauty in that country. Though the use of this earth is fatal to health, those desirous of profiting by its reducing qualities persevere in its consumption. Loss of appetite and inability to partake of more than most minute portions of food are not slow in bringing the wished-for consummation about. The inhabitants of Ceylon make a perfect study of the training of the figure to the most slender proportions. Books on the subject are common in that country, and no young lady is considered the perfection of fashionable elegance unless a great number of qualities and graces are possessed; not the least of these is a waist which can be quite or nearly clasped with the two hands; and, as we proceed with our work, it will be seen that this standard for the perfection of waist-measurement has been almost world-wide. From the coral-fringed and palm-decked islands of the Pacific and Indian Ocean we have but to travel to the grass-clad Yaila of Crim Tartary and the rock-crowned fastnesses of Circassia, to see the same tastes prevailing, and even more potent means in force for the obtainment of a taper form. Any remarks from us as to the beauty of the ladies of Circassia would be needless, their claim to that enviable endowment being too well established to call for confirmation at our hands, and that no pains are spared in the formation of their figures will be best seen by a quotation from a recent traveller who writes on the subject:— "What would" (he says) "our ladies think of this fashion on the part of the far-famed beauties of Circassia? The women wear a corset made of 'morocco,' and furnished with two plates of wood placed on the chest, | THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. Investigatlon proves to us that the taste for slender waists prevailed even more in the Eastern nations than in those of Europe, and we find that other means besides that of compression have bcen extensivcly taken advantage of. Humboldt, in his personal narrative, describes the women of [ava, and informs us that the reddish cly called 'amp6'' is eaten by them in order that they may become slim, want of plumpness being a kind of beauty in that country, Though the use of this earth is fatal to health, those desirous of profiting by its reducing qualities persevere in its consumption. Loss of appetite and inability to partake of more than most minute portions of food are not slow in bringing the wished-for consummation about. The inhabitants of Ceylon make a perfect study of the training of the figure to the most slender proportions, Books on the subject are common in that country, and no young ldy is considered the perfection of fashionable elegance unless a great number of qualities and graces are possessed ; not the least of these is a waist which can be quite or nearly clasped with the two hands ; and, as we proceed with our work, it will be seen that this standard for the perfection of waist-measurement has been almost world-wide, From the coral-fringed and palm-decked islands of the Pacific and Indian Ocean we have but to travel to the grass-clad Yaila of Crim Tartary and the rock-crowned fastnesses of Circassia, to see the same tastes prevailing, and even more potent means in force for the obtainment of a taper form. Any remarks from us as to the beauty of the ladies of Circassia would be needless, their claim to that enviable endowment being too well established to call for confirmation at our hands, and that no pains are spared in the formation of their figures will be best seen by a quotation from a recent traveller who writes on the subject :- What would'' (he says) '*our ladies think of this fshion on the part of the far-famed beauties of Circassiai The women wear a corset made of 'morocco, and furnished with two plates of wood placed on the chest, |
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| 14 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. which, by their strong pressure, prevent the expansion of the chest; this corset also confines the bust from the collar-bones to the waist by means of a cord which passes through leather rings. They even wear it during the night, and only take it off when worn out, to put on another quite as small." He then speaks of the daughters of Osman Oglow, and says, "Their figures were tightened in an extraordinary degree, and their anteries were clasped from the throat downwards by silver plates." These plates are not only ornamental, but being firmly sewn to the two busks in front of the corset, and being longest at the top and narrowest at the waist, when clasped, as shown in the accompanying illustration, any change in fit or adjustment is rendered impossible. It will be seen on examination that at each side of the bottom of the corsage is a large round plate or boss of ornamental silver. These serve as clasps for the handsomely-mounted silver waist-belt, and by their size and position serve to contrast with the waist, and make it appear extremely small. That the elegancies of female attire have been deeply studied even among the Tartars of the Crimea will be seen by the following account, written by Madame de Hell, of her visit to Princess Adel Beg, a celebrated Tartar beauty:— "Admitted into a fairy apartment looking out on a terraced garden, a curtain was suddenly raised at the end of the room, and a woman of striking beauty entered, dressed in rich costume. She advanced to me with an air of remarkable dignity, took both my hands, kissed me on the two cheeks, and sat down beside me, making many demonstrations of friendship. She wore a great deal of rouge; her eyelids were painted black, and met over the nose, giving her countenance a certain sternness, which, nevertheless, did not destroy its pleasing effect. A furred velvet vest fitted tight to her still elegant figure, and altogether her appearance surpassed what I had conceived of her beauty. After some time, when I offered to go, she checked me with a very graceful gesture, and said eagerly, 'Pastoi, pastoi,' which is Russian for 'Stay, stay,' and | 14 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. which, by their strong pressure, prevent the espansion of the chest ; this' corset also confines the bust from the collar-bones to the waist by means of a cord which passes through leather rings, They even wear it during the night, and only take it off when worn out, to put on another quite as small,'' He then speaks of the daughters of Osman Oglow, and says, ' Their figures were tightened in an estraordinary degree, and their anterier were clasped from the throat downwards by silver plates,'' These plates are not only ornamental, but being firmly sewn to the two busks in front of the corset, and being longest at the top and narrowest at the waist, when clasped, as shown in the accompanying illustration, any change in fit or adjustment is rendered impossible, It will be seen on examination that at each side of the bottom of the corsage is a lrge round plate or boss of ornamental silver These serve as clsps for the handsomely-mounted silver waist-belt, and by their size and position serve to contrast with the waist, and make it appear extremely small, That the elegancies of female attire have been deeply studied even among the Tartars of the Crimea will be seen by the following account, written by Madame de Hell, of her visit to Princess Adel Beg, a celebrated Tartar beanty :- 8Admitted into a fairy apartment looking out on a terraccd garden, a curtain was suddenly raised at the end of the room, and a woman of striking beauty entered, dressed in rich costume, She advanced to me with an air of remarkable dignity, took both my hands, kissed me on the two cheeks, and sat down beside mc, making many demonstrations of friendship. She wore a great deal of rouge; her eyelids were painted black, and met over the nose, giving hher countenance a certain sternness, which, nevertheless, did not destroy its pleasing effect. A furred velvet vest fitted tight to her still elegant fgure, and altogether her appear- ance surpassed whiat I had conceived of her beauty. After some time, when I offered to go, shhe checked me with a very graceful gesture, and said eagerly, -Pastoi, pastoi,' which is Russian for 'Stay, stsy, and |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 19 clapped her hands several times. A young girl entered at the signal, and by her mistress's orders threw open a folding-door, and immediately I was struck dumb with surprise and admiration by a most brilliant apparition. Imagine, reader, the most exquisite sultanas of whom poetry and painting have ever tried to convey an idea, and still your conception will fall far short of the enchanting models I had then before me. There were three of them, all equally graceful and beautiful. They were clad in tunics of crimson brocade, adorned in front with broad gold lace. The tunics were open, and disclosed beneath them cashmere robes with very tight sleeves, terminating in gold fringes. The youngest wore a tunic of azure-blue brocade, with silver ornaments; this was the only difference between her dress and that of her sisters. All three had magnificent black hair escaping in countless tresses from a fez of silver filigree, set like a diadem over their ivory foreheads. They wore gold-embroidered slippers and wide trousers drawn close at the ankle. I had never beheld skins so dazzlingly fair, eyelashes so long, or so delicate a bloom of youth." The Hindoos subject the figures of their dancing-girls and future belles to a system of very careful training; in all their statues, from those of remote antiquity, to be seen in the great cave temples of Carlee Elanra, and Elephanta, to those of comparatively modern date, the long and slender waist is invariably associated with other attributes of their standard of beauty. "Thurida," the daughter of Brahama, is thus described by a Hindoo writer:— "This girl" (he informs us) "was of a yellow colour, and had a nose like the flower of resamum; her legs were taper, like the plantain tree; her eyes large, like the principal leaf of the lotus; her eyebrows extended to her ears; her lips were red, and like the young leaves of the mango tree; her face was like the full moon; her voice like the sound of the cuckoo; her arms reached to her knees; her throat was like that of a pigeon; her loins narrow, like those of a lion; her hair hung in | THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. clapped her hands several times, A young girl entercd at the signal, and by her mistress's orders threw open a folding-door, and immediately I was struck dumb with surprise and admiration by a most brilliant apparition, Imagine, reader, the most exquisite sultanas of whom poetry and painting have ever tried to convey an idea, and still your conception will fll far short of the enchanting models I had then before me, There wcre three of them, all equally graceful and beautiful. They were clad in tunics of crimson brocade, adorned in front with broad gold lace. The tunics were open, and disclosed beneath them cashmere robes with very tight sleeves, terminating in gold fringes. The youngest wore a tunic of azure-blue brocade, with silver ornaments; this was the only difference between her dress and that of her sisters, All three had magnificent black hair escaping in countless tresses from a fez of silver filigree, set like a diadem over their ivory foreheads, They wore gold-embroidered slippers and wide trousers drawn close at the ankle. I had never beheld skins so dazzlingly fair, eyelashes so long, or so delicate a bloom of youth,'' The Hindoos subject the figures of their dancing-girls and future belles to a system of very careful training; in all their statues, from those of remote antiquity, to be seen in the great cave temples of Carlee Elanra, and Elephanta, to those of comparatively modern date, the long and slender waist is invariably associated with other attributes of their standard of beauty. Thurida,'' the daughter of Brahama, is thus described by a Hindoo writer :- This girl'' (he informs us) '*was of a yellow colour, and had a nose like the flower of resamum ; her legs were taper, like the plantain tree ; her eyes lge, like the principal leaf of the lotus ; her eyebrows es- tended to her ears; her lips were red, and like the young leaves of the mango tree ; her face was like the full moon; her voice lile the sound of the cuckoo; her arms reached to her knees ; her throat was like that of a pigeon ; her loins narrow, like those of a lion ; her hair hung in |
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| 20 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. curls down to her feet; her teeth were like the seeds of the pomegranate; and walk like that of a drunken elephant or a goose." The Persians entertain much the same notions with regard to the necessity for slenderness of form in the belles of their nation, but differ in other matters from the Hindoos. The following illustration represents a dancing-girl of Persia, and it will be seen that her figure bears no indication of neglect of cultivation. It is somewhat curious that the Chinese, with all their extraordinary ingenuity, have confined their restrictive efforts to the feet of the ladies, leaving their waists unconfined. That their doing so is more the result of long-established custom than absence of admiration for elegantly-proportioned figures will be clearly proved by the following extract from a letter published in Chambers' Journal, written by a genuine inhabitant of the Celestial Empire, named Woo-tan-zhin, who paid a visit to England in 1844-45. Thus he describes the ladies of England:— "Their eyes, having the blue tint of the waters of autumn, are charming beyond description, and their waists are laced as tight and thin as a willow branch. What, perhaps, caught my fancy most was the sight of elegantly-dressed young ladies, with pearl-like necks and tight-laced waists; nothing can possibly be so enchanting as to see ladies that compress themselves into taper forms of the most exquisite shape, the like of which I have never seen before." By many writers it has been urged that the admiration so generally felt for slenderly-proportioned and taper waists results from an artificial taste set up by long custom; but in Woo-tan-zhin's case it was clearly not so, as the small-waisted young ladies of the "outer barbarians" were to him much as some new and undescribed flowers or birds would be to the wondering naturalist who first beheld them. Although researches among the antiquities of Egypt and Thebes fail to bring to our notice an article of dress corresponding with the waist-bandage of Polenqui or the strophium of later times, we find | 2o THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. curls down to her feet; her teeth were like the seeds of the pome- granate; and walk like that of a drunken elephant or a goose,'' Che Persians entertain much the same notions with regard to the necessity for slenderness of form in the belles of their nation, but differ in other matters from the Hindoos, The following illustration represents a dancing-girl of Persia, and it will be seen that her figure bears no indication of neglect of cultivation, It is somewhat curious that the Chinese, with all their extraordinary ingenuity, have confined their restrictive efforts to the feet of the ladies, leaving their waists unconfined. That their doing so is more the result of long-established custom than absence of admiration for elegantly-proportioned figures will be clearly proved by the following estract from a letter published in Cbamberrr' name1 Woon-bin, who pi4 vis o England in 844-4;. Th4e ] 7eurnal, written by a genuine inlabitant of the Celestial Empire, le describes the ladies of England :- Their eyes, having the blue tint of the waters of autumn, are charming beyond description, and their waists are lced as tight and thin as a willow branch. What, perlaps, caught my fancy most was the sight of elegantly-dressed young ladies, with pearllike necks and tight- laced waists; nothing can possibly be so enchanting as to see ldies that compress themselves into taper forms of the most exquisite shape, the like of which I have never seen before,'' By many writers it has been urged that the admiration so generally felt for slenderly-proportioned and taper waists results from an artificial taste set up by long custom ; but in Woo-tan-zhin's case it was clearly not so, as the small-waisted young ladies of the '*outer barbarians'? were to him much as some new and undescribed flowers or birds would be to the wondering naturalist who first beheld them. Although researches among the antiquities of Egypt and Thebes fail to bring to our notice an article of dress corresponding with the waist-bandage of Polenqui or the strophium of later times, we find |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 25 elaborately-ornamented waistbelts in general use, and by their arrangement it will be seen that they were so worn as to show the waist off to the best advantage. The accompanying illustrations represent Egyptian ladies of distinction. The dress in the first, it will be observed, is worn long. A sort of transparent mantle covers and gives an appearance of width to the shoulders, whilst a coloured sash, after binding the waist, is knotted in front, and the ends allowed to fall freely over the front of the dress, much as we have seen it worn in our own time; and it is most remarkable that, although there is no evidence to show the use of crinoline by the ladies of old Egypt, the lower border of the skirt, in some instances, appears distended as in the prior illustration; whilst in others, as shown in the second engraving, the dress is made to fit the lower portion of the figure closely, barely affording scope for the movement of the legs in walking. How often these arrangements of dress have been in turn adopted and discarded will be seen as our work proceeds. The following extract from Fullam will show that Fashion within the shadow of the Pyramids, in the days of the Pharaohs, reigned with power as potent and supreme as that which she exercises in the imperial palaces of Paris and Vienna at the present day:— "The women of Egypt early paid considerable attention to their toilet. Their dress, according to Herodotus, consisted usually of but one garment, though a second was often added. Among the upper orders the favourite attire was a petticoat tied round the waist with a gay sash, and worn under a robe of fine linen or a sort of chintz variously coloured, and made large and loose, with wide sleeves, the band being fastened in front just under the bust. Their feet were incased in sandals, the rudiment of the present Eastern slipper, which they resembled also in their embroidery and design. Their persons and apparel, in conformity with Oriental taste in all ages, were profusely decked with ornaments, 'jewels of silver and jewels of gold,' with precious gems of extraordinary size, of which imitations, hardly dis- | THE CORSE'T AND THE CRINOLINE. 3 claborately-ornamented waisthclts in gencral use, and by their arrange- ment it will be seen that thhey were so worn as to show thie waist off to thhe best advantage. The accompanying illustrations represent Egyptian ladies of distinction, The dress in the first, it will be observed, is worn long. A sort of transparent mantle covers and gives an appearance of width to the shoulders, whilst a coloured sash, after binding the waist, is knotted in front, and the ends allowed to fall freely over he' front of the dress, much as we have seen it worn in our own time; and it is most remarkable that, although there is no evidence to show the use of crinoline by the ladies of old Egypt, the lower border of the skirt, in some instances, appears distended as in the prior illustrarion ; whilst in others, as shown in the second engraving, the dress is made to fit the lower portion of the figure closely,barely affording scope for the movement of the legs in walking. How often these arrangements of dress have been in turn adopted and discarded will be seen as our work proceeds, The following estract from Fullam will show that Fashion within the shadow of the Pyramids, in the days of the Pharaohs, reigned with power as potent and supreme as that which she exercises in the imperial palaces of Paris and Vienna at the present day :- The women of Egypt early paid considerable attention to their toilet, Their dress, according to Herodotus, consisted usually of but one garment, though a second was often added, Among the upper orders the favourite attire was a petticoat tied round the waist with a gAy sash, and worn under a robe of fine linen or a sort of chintz variously coloured, and made large and loose, with wide sleeves, the band being fastened in front just under the bust. Their feet were incased in sandals, the rudiment of the present Eastern slipper, which they resembled also in their embroidery and design. Their persons and apparel, in conformity with Oriental taste in all ages, were profusely decked with ornaments, 'jewels of silver and jewels of gold,' with precious gens of estraordinary size, of which imitations, hardly dis- |
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| 26 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. tinguishable from the real stones, were within the reach of the humblest classes, whose passion for finery could not be surpassed by their superiors. The richly carved and embroidered sandals, tied over the instep with tassels of gold, were surmounted by gold anklets or bangles, which, as well as the bracelets encircling the wrist, sparkled with rare gems; and necklaces of gold or of beautiful beads, with a pendant of amethysts or pearls, hung from the neck. Almost every finger was jewelled, and the ring finger in particular was usually allotted several rings, while massive earrings shaped like hoops, or sometimes taking the form of a jewelled asp or of a dragon, adorned the ears. Gloves were used at a very early date, and among the other imperishable relics of that olden time the tombs of Egypt have rendered up to us a pair of striped linen mittens, which once covered the hands of a Theban lady. "Women of quality inclosed their hair with a band of gold, from which a flower drooped over the forehead, while the hair fell in long plaits to the bosom, and behind streamed down the back to the waist. The side hair was secured by combs made of polished wood or by a gold pin, and perhaps was sometimes adorned, like the brow, with a favourite flower. The toilet was furnished with a brazen mirror, polished to such a degree as to reflect every lineament of the face, and the belles of Egypt, as ladies of the present day may imagine, spent no small portion of their time with this faithful counsellor. The boudoirs were not devoid of an air of luxury and refinement particularly congenial to a modern imagination. A stand near the unglazed window supported vases of flowers, which filled the room with delicious odours; a soft carpet overspread the floor; two or three richly-carved chairs and an embroidered fauteuil afforded easy and inviting seats; and the lotus and papyrus were frescoed on the walls. Besides the brazen mirror, other accessories of the toilet were arranged on the ebony table, and boxes and caskets grotesquely carved, some containing jewels, others furnished with oils and ointments, took their place with quaintly-cut smelling- | a6 THE CoRSET AND THE CRINoLINE. tinguishable from the real stones, were within the reach of the humblest clsses, whose passion for finery could not be surpassed by their superiors, The richly carved and embroidered sandals, tied over the instep with tassels of gold, were surmounted by gold anklets or bangles, which, as well as the bracelets encircling the wrist, sparkled with rare gems; and necklaces of gold or of beautiful beads, with a pendant of amethysts or pearls, hung from the neck. Almost every finger was jewelled, and the ring finger in particular was usually allotted several rings, while massive earrings shaped like hoops, or sometimes taking the form of a jewelled asp or of a dragon, adorned the ears, Gloves were used at a very early date, and among the other imperishable relics of that olden time the tombs of Egypt have rendered up to us a pair of striped linen mittens, which once covered the hands of a Theban lady. Women of quality inclosed their hair with a band of gold, from which a flower drooped over the forehead, while the hair fell in long plaits to the bosom, and behind streamed down the back to the waist. The side hair was secured by combs made of polished wood or by a gold pin, and perhaps was sometimes adorned, like the brow, with a favourite flower. The toilet was furnished with a brazen mirror, polished to such a degree as to reflect every lineament of the face, and the belles of Egypt, as ladies of the present day may imagine, spent no small portion of their time with this faithful counsellor, The boudoirs were not devoid of an air of lusury and refinement particularly congenial to a modern imagina- tion. A stand near the unglazed window supported vases of flowers, which filled the room with delicious odours; a soft carpet overspread the floor ; two or three richly-carved chairs and an embroidered fauteuil afforded easy and inviting seats; and the lotus and papyrus were frescoed on the walls, Besides the brazen mirror, other acces- sories of the toilet were arranged on the ebony table, and boxes and caskets grotesquely carved, some containing jewels, others furnished with oils and ointments, took their place with quaintly-cut smelling- |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 27 bottles, wooden combs, silver or bronze bodkins, and lastly, pins and needles. "Seated at this shrine, the Egyptian beauty, with her dark glance fixed on the brazen mirror, sought to heighten those charms which are always most potent in their native simplicity. A touch of collyrium gave illusive magnitude to her voluptuous eyes; another cosmetic stained their lids; a delicate brush pencilled her brows—sometimes, alas! imparted a deceitful bloom to her cheeks; and her taper fingers were coloured with the juice of henna. Precious ointments were poured on her hair, and enveloped her in an atmosphere of perfume, while the jeweller's and milliner's arts combined to decorate her person." In Sir Gardner Wilkinson's admirable work on ancient Egypt, to which I am indebted for some valuable information, there is a plate representing a lady in a bath with her attendants, drawn from a sculpture in a tomb at Thebes, whence we may derive some faint idea of the elaborate character of an Egyptian toilet. The lady is seated in a sort of pan, with her long hair streaming over her shoulders, and is supported by the arm of an attendant, who, with her other hand, holds a flower to her nose, while another damsel pours water over her head, and a third washes and rubs down her delicate arms. A fourth maiden receives her jewels, and deposits them on a stand, where she awaits the moment when they will be again required. There appears little doubt that the ancient Israelitish ladies, amongst their almost endless and most complex articles of adornment, numbered the corset in a tolerably efficient form, and of attractive and rich material, for we read in the twenty-fourth verse of the third chapter of Isaiah, referring to Divine displeasure manifested against the people of Jerusalem and Judah, and the taking away of matters of personal adornment from the women, that "instead of a girdle there should be a | THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 27 bottles, wooden combs, silver or bronze bodkins, and lastly, pins and ] needles, '*Seated at this shrine, the Egyptian beauty, with her dark glance ] fised on the brazen mirror, sought to heighten those charms which are ] always most potent in their native simplicity. A touch of collyrium ] gave illusive magnitude to her voluptuous eyes; another cosmetic ] stained their lids ; a delicate brush pencilled her brows- sometimes, ] alas! imparted a deceitful bloom to her cheeks; and her taper fingers ] were coloured with the juice of henna. Precious ointments were l poured on her hair, and enveloped her in an atmosphere of perfume, ] while the jeweller's and milliner's arts combined to decorate her ] person,'' In Sir Gardner Wilkinson's admirable work on ancient Egypt, to ] which I am indebted for some valuable information, there is a plate ] representing a lady in a bath with her attendants, drawn from a ] sculpture in a tomb at Thebes, whence we may derie some faint idea ] of the elaborate character of an Egyptian toilet. The lady is seated in a sort of pan, with her long hair streaming ] over her shoulders, and is supported by the arm of an attendant, who, ] with her other hand, holds a flower to her nose, while another damsel ] pours water over her. head, and a third washes and rubs down her ] delicate arms, A fourth maiden receives her jewels, and deposits them on a stand, where she awaits the moment when they will be again required. There appears little doubt that the ancient Israelitish ladies, amongst their almost endless and most comples articles of adornment, numbered the corset in a tolerably efficient form, and of attractise and rich material, for we read in the twenty-fourth verse of the third chapter of Isaiah, referring to Divine displeasure manifested against the people of Jerusalem and Judah, and the taking away of matters ot personal adornment from the womei, that ''instead of a girdle there should be a |
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| 28 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. rent, and instead of well-set hair baldness, and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth, and burning instead of beauty." Here we have the coarse, repulsive, unattractive sackcloth held up in marked contrast to the stomacher, which was without question a garment on which much attention was bestowed; and the following extract from Fullam's History of Woman shows how costly and magnificent was the costume of the period:— "The bridal dress of a princess or Jewish lady of rank, whose parents possessed sufficient means, was of the most sumptuous description, as may be seen from the account given of that worn by the bride of Solomon in the Canticles, and the various articles enumerated show the additions which feminine taste had already made to the toilet. The body was now clothed in a bodice ascending to the network which inclosed, rather than concealed, the swelling bust; and jewelled clasps and earrings, with strings of pearls and chains of gold, gave a dazzling effect to Oriental beauty. In Solomon's reign silk is said to have been added to the resources of the toilet, and the sex owe to a sister, Pamphyla, the daughter of Patous, the discovery of this exquisite material, in which woman wrested from Nature a dress worthy of her charms. "The ordinary attire of Jewish women was made of linen, usually white, without any intermixture of colours, though, in accordance with the injunction in Numbers xv. 38, they made 'fringes in the borders of their garments,' and 'put upon the fringe of the borders a riband of blue.' Judith, when she sought to captivate Holofernes, 'put on her garments of gladness, wherewith she was clad during the life of Manasses her husband; and she took sandals upon her feet, and put about her bracelets, and her chains, and her rings, and her earrings, and all her ornaments, and decked herself bravely to allure the eyes of all men that should see her.' Gemmed bangles encircled her ankles, attracting the glance to her delicate white feet; and Holofernes, by an | 8 THE CoRSET AND THE CRINOLINE. rent, and instead of well-set hair baldness, and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth, and burning instead of beauty,'' Here we have the coarse, repulsive, unattractive sackcloth held up in marked contrast to the stomacher, which was without question a garment on which much attention was bestowed ; and the following extract from Fullam's Hirtory of HEoman shows hhow costly and magnificent was the costume of the period :- The bridal dress of a princess or Jewish lady of rank, whose parents possessed sufficient means, was of the most sumptuous descrip- tion, as may be seen from the account given of that worn by the bride of Solomon in the Canticles, and the various articles enumerated show the additions which feminine taste had already made to the toilet, The body was now clothed itn a bodice ascending to the network which inclosed, rather than concealed, the swelling bust; and jewelled clasps and earrings, with strings of pearls and chains of gold, gave a dazzling effect to Oriental beauty. In Solomon's reign silk is said to have been added to the resources of the toilet, and the sex owe to a sister, Pamphyla, the daughter of Patous, the discovery of this esquisite material, in which woman wrested from Nature a dress worthy of her charms, The ordinary attire of Jewish women was made of linen, usually white, without any intermixture of colours, though, in accordance with the injunction in Numbers xv. 38, they made 'fringes in the borders of their garments,' and 'put upon the fringe of the borders a riband of blue.' Judith, when she sought to captivate Holofernes, 'put on her garments of gladness, wherewith she was clad during the life of Manasses her husband ; and she took sandals upon her feet, and put about her bracelets, and her chains, and her rings, and her earrings, and all her ornaments, and decked herself bravely to allure the eyes of all men that should see her,' Gemmed bangles encircled her ankles, attracting the glance to her delicate white feet ; and Holofernes, by an |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 29 Oriental figure of speech, is said to have been 'ravished by the beauty of her sandals.' Like the belles of Egypt she did not disdain, in setting off her charms, to have recourse to perfumes and cosmetics, and previously to setting out she 'anointed herself with precious ointment.' In another place Jezebel is said to 'paint her eyelids;' and Solomon, in the Proverbs, in describing the deceitful woman, adjures his son not to be 'taken with her eyelids,' evidently alluding to the use of collyrium. The Jewish beauty owed no slight obligation to her luxuriant tresses, which were decorated with waving plumes and strings of pearls; and in allusion to this custom, followed among the tribes from time immemorial, St. Paul affirms that 'a woman's ornament is her hair.' Judith 'braided the hair of her head and put a tire upon it;' and the headdress of Pharaoh's daughter, in the Canticles, is compared by Solomon to Carmel. No mention is made of Judith's mirror, but it was undoubtedly made of brass, like those described in Exodus xxxviii. 8 as 'the looking-glasses of the women which assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation.'" | THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. >9 Oriental figure of speech, is said to have been 'ravishcd by the beauty of her sandals,' Like the belles of Egypt she did not disdain, in setting off her charms, to hiave recourse to perfumes and cosmetics, and previously to setting out she 'anointed herself with precious ointment.' In another place Jezebel is said to 'paint her eyelids ; and Solomon, in the Proverbs, in describing the deceitful woman, adjures his son not to be 'taken with her eyelids, evidently alluding to the use of collyrium. The [ewish beauty owed no slight obligation to her luxuriant tresses, which were decorated with waving plumes and strings of pearls; and in allusion to this custom, followed among the tribes from time imme- morial, St, Paul affirms that 'a woman's ornament is her hair,' udith braided the hair of her head and put a tire upon it; and the headdress of Pharaoh's daughter, in the Canticles, is compared by Solomon to Carmel, No mention is made of Judith's mirror, but it was undoubtedly made of brass, like those described in Exodus xxxviii, 8 as 'the looking-glasses of the women which assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation,''' . e' -A A % / =s , Twr e N |
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| 30 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. CHAPTER II. Homer the first ethnic writer who speaks of an article of dress allied to the Corset—The cestus or girdle of Venus—Terentius, the Roman dramatist, and his remarks on the practice of tight-lacing—The use of the strophium by the ladies of Rome, and the mitra of the Grecian belles—The peplus as worn by the ancients—Toilet of a Roman lady of fashion—Roman baths—Fashionable promenades of Ancient Rome—Boundless luxury and extravagance—Cleopatra and her jewels—The taper waists and tight-lacing of the ancient Roman ladies—Conquest of the Roman Empire. AMONGST the ethnic writers, Homer appears to be the first who describes an article of female dress closely allied to the corset. He tells us of the cestus or girdle of Venus, mother of the Loves and Graces, and of the haughty Juno, who was fabled to have borrowed it with a view to the heightening and increasing her personal attractions, in order that Jupiter might become a more tractable and orderly husband. The poet attributes most potent magical virtues to the cestus, but these are doubtlessly used in a figurative sense, and Juno, in borrowing the cestus, merely obtained from a lady of acknowledged elegance of figure a corset with which to set her own attractions off to the best possible advantage, so that her husband might be charmed with her improved appearance; and Juno appears to have been a very far-seeing and sensible woman. From periods of very remote antiquity, and with the gradual increase of civilisation, much attention appears to have been paid to the formation and cultivation of the female figure, and much the same means were had recourse to for the achievement of the same end prior to 560 B.C. as in the year 1868. Terentius, the Roman dramatist, who was born in the year 560, causes one of his characters, in speaking of the object of his affections, to exclaim— "This pretty creature isn't at all like our town ladies, whose mothers | 3 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. T a TOTr:D Ch=ws d- II. Homer the first ethnic writer who speaks of an article of dress allied to the Corset-The cestus or girdle of Venus-Terentias, the loman dramatist, and his remarks on the practice of tight-lacing-The use of the strophium by the ladics of Rome, and the mitra of the Grccian belles-T'he peplus as worn by the ancients-Toilet of a Roman 1 ^ ==+==+=\<+-- a ] lady of fashion-loman baths-Fashionable promenades of Ancient Rome--Bound- less luxury and extravagance-Cleopatra and her jewels--The taper waists and tight- lacing of the ancient Rom)an ladies-Conquest of the Roman Empire. A MONGou the ethnic writers, Homer appears to be the first who P4 tells us of the cestus or girdle of Venus, mother of the Loves and Graces,. and of the haughty Juno, who was fabled to have borrowed it with a ] view to the heightening and increasing ber personal attractions, in order ] that Jupiter might become a more tractable and orderly husband. The ] poet attributes most potent magical virtues to the cestus, but these are ] doubtlessly used in a figurative sense, and funo, in borrowing the cestus, ] merely obtained from a lady of acknowledged elegance of figure a corset with which to set her own attractions off to the best possible advantage, so that her husband might be charmed with her improved appearance ; and Iuno appears to have been a very far-seeing and sensible woman, From periods of very remote antiquity, and with the gradual increase of civilisation, much attention appears to have been paid to the formation and cultivation of the female figure, and much the same means were had recourse to for the achievement of the same end prior to (6o B.c, as in the year 1868. Terentius, the Roman dramatist, who was born in the year g5o, causes one of his characters, in speaking of the object of his affections, to exclaim- This pretty creature isn't at all like our town ladies, whose mothers |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 33 saddle their backs and straitlace their waists to make them well-shaped. If any chance to grow a little plumper than the rest, they presently cry, 'She's an hostess,' and then her allowance must be shortened, and though she be naturally fat and lusty, yet by her dieting she is made as slender as a broomstick. By this means one woodcock or another is caught in their springe." Strutt informs us that the Roman women, married as well as unmarried, used girdles, and besides them they sometimes wore a broad swath or bandage round their breasts, called strophium, which seems to have answered the purpose of the bodice or stays, and had a buckle or bandage on the left shoulder, and that the mitra or girdle of the Greeks probably resembled the strophium of the Romans. The annexed illustration represents a lady of Ancient Greece. He also speaks of the Muses as being described by Hesiod as being girt with golden "mitres," and goes on to inform us that Theocritus in one of his pastorals introduces a damsel complaining to a shepherd of his rudeness, saying he had loosened her mitra or girdle, and tells her he means to dedicate the same to Venus. So it will be seen that the waist and its adornment were considered at that early period of the world's history matters of no ordinary importance, and whether the term strophium, zone, mitra, custula, stays, bodice, or corset is made use of, the end sought to be obtained by their aid was the same. Constant mention is made by early writers of the peplus as being a very elegant garment, and there are notices of it as back as the Trojan war, and the ladies of Troy appear to have generally worn it. On the authority of Strutt, it may be stated to have been "a thin light mantle worn by Grecian ladies above the tunic;" and we read that Antinous presented to Penelope a beautiful large and variegated peplus, having twelve buckles of gold, with tongues neatly curved. The peplus, however, was a very splendid part of the lady's dress, and it is rarely mentioned by Homer without some epithet to distinguish it | THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 0) saddle their backs and straitlce their waists to make them well-shapcd. If any chance to grow a little plumper than the rest, they presently cry, She's an hostess,' and then her allowance must be shortened, and though she be naturally fat and lusty, yet by her dieting she is made as slender as a broomstick, By this means one woodcock or another is caught in their springe'' Strutt informs us that the Roman women, married as well as unmarried, used girdles, and besides them they sometimes wore a broad swath or bandage round their breasts, called strophium, which seems to have answered the purpose of the bodice or stays, and had a buckle or bandage on the left shoulder, and that the mitra or girdle of the Greeks probably resembled the strophium of the Romans, The annexed illustration represents a lady of Ancient Greece, He also speaks of the Muses as being described by Hesiod as being girt with golden 'mitrer,'' and goes on to inform us that Theocritus in one of his pastorals introduces a damsel complaining to a shepherd of his rudeness, saying he had loosened her mitra or girdle, and tells her he means to ' dedicate the same to Venus, So it will be seen that the waist and its adornment were considered at that early period of the world's history matters of no ordinary importance, and whether the term strophium, zone, mitra, custula, stays, bodice, or corset is made use of, the end sought to be obtained by their aid was the same. Constant mention is made by early writers of the peplur as being a very elegant garment, and there are notces of it as far back as the Trojan war, and the ladies of Troy appear to have generally worn it, On the authority of Strutt, it may be stated to have been '*a thin light mantle worn by Grecian ladies above the tunic ;' and we read that Antiaous presented to Penelope a beautiful large and variegated peplus, having twelve buckles of gold, with tongues neatly curved. The peplus, however, was a very splendid part of the lady's dress, and it is rarely mentioned by Homer without some epithet to distinguish it |
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| 34 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. as such. He calls it the variegated peplus and the painted peplus, alluding to ornamental decorations either interwoven or worked with the needle upon it, which consisted not only in diversity of colours, but of flowers, foliage, and other kinds of imagery, and sometimes he styles it the soft purple peplus, which was then valuable on account of the excellence of the colour. We learn from a variety of sources that the early Roman and Grecian ladies indulged in almost unprecedented luxury in matters of personal adornment, as the following extract from Fullam will show:— "The toilet of a Roman lady involved an elaborate and very costly process. It commenced at night, when the face, supposed to have been tarnished by exposure, was overlaid with a poultice, composed of boiled or moistened flour spread on with the fingers. Poppæan unguents sealed the lips, and the body was profusely rubbed with Cerona ointment. In the morning the poultice and unguents were washed off; a bath of asses' milk imparted a delicate whiteness to the skin, and the pale face was freshened and revived with enamel. The full eyelids, which the Roman lady still knows so well how to use—now suddenly raising them, to reveal a glance of surprise or of melting tenderness, now letting them drop like a veil over the lustrous eyes—the full, rounded eyelids were coloured within, and a needle dipped in jetty dye gave length and sphericity to the eyebrows. The forehead was encircled by a wreath or fillet fastened in the luxuriant hair which rose in front in a pyramidal pile formed of successive ranges of curls, and giving the appearance of more than ordinary height. "'So high she builds her head, she seems to be, View her in front, a tall Andromache; But walk all round her, and you'll quickly find She's not so great a personage behind.' "Roman ladies frequented the public baths, and it was not unusual for dames of the highest rank to resort to these lavatories in the dead | - THE cORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 34 as such. He calls it the 4arigated peplus and the painted pephns, alluding to ornamental decorations either interwoven or worked with the needle upon it, which consisted not only in diversity of colours, but of flowers, foliage, and other kinds of imagery, and sometimes he styles it the gft purple peplur, which was then valuable on account of the excel- lence of the colour, We learn from a variety of sources that the early will show :- The toilet of a Roman lady involved an elaborate and very costly process, It commenced at night, when the face, supposed to have been tarnished by esposure, was overlaid with a poultice, composed of boiled or moistened flour spread on with the fingers, Poppa:an unguents sealed the lips, and the body was profusely rubbed with Cerona oint- ment. In the morning the poultice and unguents were washed off ; a bath of asses' milk imparted a delicate whiteness to the skin, and the pale face was freshened and revived with enamel. The full eyelids, which the Roman lady still knows so well how to use--now suddenly raising them, to reveal a glance of surprise or of melting tendernesss now letting them drop like a veil over the lustrous eyes-the fall, rounded eyelids were coloured within, and a needle dipped in jetty dye gave length and sphericity to the cyebrows, The forehead was encircled by a wreath or fillet fastened in the luxuriant hair which rose in front. in a pyramidal pile formed of successive ranges of curls, and giving the appearance of more than ordinary height. 8So high she builds her head, she seems to be, View her in front, a tall Andromache ; But walk all round her, and you'll quickly fnd She's not so great a personage behind.' 'Roman ladies frequented the public baths, and it was not unusual for dames of the highest rank to resort to these lavatories in the dead |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 35 hour of the night. Seated in a palanquin or sedan borne by sturdy chairmen, and preceded by slaves bearing flambeaux, they made their way through the deserted streets, delighted to arouse and alarm their neighbours. A close chair conveyed the patrician matron to the spectacles and shows, to which she always repaired in great state, surrounded by her servants and slaves, the dependants of her husband, and the clients of her house, all wearing the badge of the particular faction she espoused. The factions of the circus were four in number, and were distinguished by their respective colours of blue, green, white, and red, to which Domitian, who was a zealous patron of the Circensian games, added the less popular hues of gold and purple. But the spectators generally attached themselves either to the blue or the green, and the latter was the chief favourite, numbering among its adherents emperors and empresses, senators, knights, and noble dames, as well as the great mass of the people, who, when their champions were defeated, carried their partisanship to such an extreme that the streets were repeatedly deluged with the blood of the blues, and more than once the safety of the state was imperilled by these disgraceful commotions. "The public walks and gardens were a fashionable resort of the Roman ladies. There they presented themselves in rich costume, which bore testimony alike to the wealth of their husbands and their own taste. A yellow tire or hood partly covered, but did not conceal, their piled hair; their vest of muslin or sarcenet, clasped with gems, was draped with a murry-coloured robe descending to their high-heeled Greek boots; necklaces of emerald hung from their swan-like necks, and jewelled earrings from their ears; diamonds glittered on their fingers, and their dazzling complexions were shielded from the sun by a parasol." The researches of Strutt show us that the shoes of the ladies, and especially among the Romans, proved a very expensive part of the dress. In general they were white, but persons of opulence did not confine themselves to any colour. We find them black, scarlet, purple, yellow, | , THE cORSET AND THE CRINoLINE. Iour of the night, Seated in a palanquin or sedan borne by sturdy chairmen, and preceded by slaves bearing flambeaux, they made their way through the deserted streets, delighted to arouse and alarm their neighbours, A close chair conveyed the patrician matron to the spec- tacles and shows, to whichn she always repaired in great state, surrounded by her servants and slaves, the dcpendants of her husband, and the clients of her house, all wearing the badge of the particular faction she espoused. The factions of the circus were four in number, and were distinguished by their respective colours of blue, green, white, and red, to which Domitian, who was a zealous patron of the Circensian games, added the less popular hues of gold and purple. But the spectators generally attached themselves either to the blue or the green, and the latter was the chief fvourite, numbering among its adherents emperors and empresses, senators, knights, and noble dames, as well as the great mass of the people, who, when their champions were defeated, carried their partisanship to such an extreme that the streets were repeatedly deluged with the blood of the blues, and more than once the safety of the state was imperilled by these disgraceful commotions. The public walks and gardens were a fashionable resort of the Roman ladies, There they presented themselves in rich costume, which bore testimony alike to the wealth of their husbands and their own taste. A yellow tire or hood partly covered, but did not conceal, their piled hair ; their vest of muslin or sarcenet, clasped with gems, was draped with a murry-coloured robe descending to them high-heeled Greek boots ; necklaces of emerald hung from their swan-like necks, and iewelled earrings from their ears; diamonds glittered on their fingers, and their dazzling complexions were shielded from the sun by a parasol,'' The researches of Strutt show us that the shoes of the ladies, and especially among the Romans, proved a very espensive part of the dress, In general they were white, but persons of opulence dd not confine themselves to any colour. We find them black, scarlet, purple, yellow, |
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| 36 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. and green. They were often not only richly adorned with fringes and embroideries of gold, but set with pearls and precious stones of the most costly kind, and these extravagances were not confined to persons of rank. They were imitated by those of lower station, and became so prevalent at the commencement of the third century, that even the luxurious Emperor Heliogabalus thought it necessary to publish an edict prohibiting the use of such expensive shoes excepting to women of quality. The women wore the close shoe or calceus. Gloves, too, as we have seen before, were known and used in very early ages, and it appears probable that they were first devised by those whose labours called them to the thick-tangled thorn coverts, but that they were worn by those who did not labour is clearly proved by Homer, who describes the father of Ulysses when living in a state of rest as wearing gloves; but he gives us no information as to the material from which they were manufactured. The Romans appear to have been much more addicted to the practice of wearing gloves than the Greeks, and we are informed that "under the emperors they were made with fringes," though others were without them, and were fashioned much after the manner of the mittens of the present day. Further on we learn that "as riches and luxury increased, the lady's toilet was proportionately filled with ornaments for the person, so that it was called 'the woman's world.'" They not only anointed the hair and used rich perfumes, but sometimes they painted it. They also made it appear of a bright yellow colour by the assistance of washes and compositions made for that purpose; but they never used powder, which is a much later invention. They frizzled and curled the hair with hot irons, and sometimes they raised it to a great height by rows of curls one above another in the form of a helmet, and such as had not sufficient hair of their own used false hair to complete the lofty pile, and these curls appear to have been fashioned with hairpins. The Grecian virgins used to braid their hair in a multiplicity of knots, but that custom, as well as painting the under part of the eyelids with black paint, was | 34 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. and green, They were often not only richly adorned with fringes and embroideries of gold, but set with pearls and precious stones of the most costly kind, and these extravagances were not confined to persons of rank, T'hey were imitated by those of lower station, and became so prevalent at the commencement of the third century, that even the luxurious Emperor Heliogabalus thought it necessary to publish an edict prohibiting the use of such expensive shoes excepting to women of quality, The women wore the close shoe or calceus, Gloves, too, as we have seen before, were known and used in very early ages, and it appears probable that they were first devised by those whose labours called them to the thick- tangled thorn coverts, but that they were worn by those who did not labour is clearly proved by Homer, who describes the father of Ulysses when living in a state of rest as wearing gloves ; but he gives us no information as to the material from which they were manufactured, The Romans appear to have been much more addicted to the practice of wearing gloves than the Greeks, and we are informed that ''under the emperors they were made with fringes,'' thongh others were without them, and were fashioned much after the manner of the mittens of the present day, Further on we learn that * as riches and lusury increased, the lady's toilet was proportionately filled with ornaments for the person, so that it was called 'be vomman'r oorldd,''* They not only anointed the hair and used rich perfumes, but sometimes they painted it, They also made it appear of a bright yellow colour by the assistance of washes and compositions made for that purpose; but they never used powder, which is a much later invention. They frizzled and curled the hair with hot irons, and sometimes they raised it to a great height by rows of curls one above another in the form of a helmet, and such as had not sufficient hair of their own used false hair to complete the lofty pile, and these curls appear to have been fashioned with hairpins, The Grecian virgins used to braid their hair in a multiplicity of knots, but that custom, as well as painting the under part of the eyelids with black paint, was |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 37 discommended by an ancient poet. Persons of rank had slaves to perform for them the offices of the toilet. They held the mirror in their hand themselves and gave directions, and Martial tells us that, if the slaves unfortunately placed a hairpin wrong, or omitted to twist the curls exactly as they were ordered, the mirror was thrown at the offender's head, or, according to Juvenal, the whip was applied with much severity. The hair was adorned with ornaments of gold, with pearls and precious stones, and sometimes with garlands or chaplets of flowers. It was also bound with fillets and ribbons of various colours and kinds. The net or hair-caul for the purpose of inclosing the hinder part of the hair was in general use with the Grecian and Roman ladies. These ornaments were frequently enriched with embroidery, and sometimes made so thin that Martial sarcastically called them "bladders." Again, in the matter of earrings, we quote from the same valuable and trustworthy authority. No adornment of the head claims priority to earrings. They have been fashionable, as Montfaucon justly observes, in all ages and almost all nations. It is evident from Homer that the Grecian women bored their ears for the admission of these ornaments. The poet gives earrings to the goddess Juno, and the words he uses on the occasion are literally these:—"In her well-perforated ears she put the earrings of elaborate workmanship, having three eyes in each"—that is, three pendants or jewels, either made in the form of eyes, or so called from their brightness. The extravagance of the Grecian and Roman ladies in the purchase of these articles of adornment almost exceeds belief. Pliny says, "They seek for pearls at the bottom of the Red Sea, and search the bowels of the earth for emeralds to ornament their ears;" and Seneca tells us that "a single pair of earrings was worth the revenue of a large estate, and that some women would wear at their ears the price of two or three patrimonies." We read that the earrings worn by Cleopatra were valued at £161,458, and that Servilia, the D | THE CORSE'T AND THE CRINOLINE. -=--------+-- 1 discommended by an ancient poet. Iersons of rank had slaves to ] perform for them the offices of the toilet. They held the mirror in ] their hand themselves and gave directions, and Martial tells us that, if the ] slaves unfortunatcly placed a hairpin wrong, or omitted to twist the ] curls exactly as they were ordered, the mirror was thrown at the ] offender's head, or, according to Juvenal, the whip was applied with ] much severity, Thhe hair was adorned with ornaments of gold, with t pearls and precious stones, and sometimes with garlands or chaplets of flowers, It was also bound with fillets and ribbons of various colours and kinds, The net or hair-caul for the purpose of inclosing the hinder part of the hair was in general use with the Grecian and Roman ladies, These ornaments were frequently enriched with embroidery, and sometimes made so thin that Martial sarcastically called them 'ladder,'' Again, in the matter of earringr, we quote from the same valuable and trustworthy authority. No adornment of the head clims priority to earrings, They have been fashionable, as Montfaucon justly observes, in all ages and almost all nations, It is evident from Homer that the Grecian women bored their ears for the admission of these ornaments, The poet gives earrings to the goddess Juno, and the words he uses on the occasion are literally these :-'8Ii her well-perforated ears she put the earrings of elaborate workmanship, having three eyes in each''--that is, three pendants or jewels, either made in the form of eyes, or so called from their brightness, The extravagance of the Grecian and Roman ladies in the purchase of these articles of adornment almost exceeds belief. Pliny says, 'They seek for pearls at the bottom of the Red Sea, and search the bowels of the earth for emeralds to ornament their ears ;'' and Seneca tells us that '*a single pair of earrings was worth the revenue of a large estate, and that some women would wear at their ears the price of two or three patrimonies,'' We read that the earrings worn by Cleopatra were valued at 161,458, and that Servilia, the La-=44wW=s+-- |
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| 38 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. mother of Brutus, was presented with a pair by Julius Cæsar, the value of which was £48,457. Bracelets are also ornaments of high antiquity, as are rings and brooches of various forms for fastening the dress. Rich gold chains and jewelled fastenings were in common use during this period. The annexed illustration represents a Roman lady of rank about the reign of Heliogabalus. Little alteration appears to have taken place in the general style of costume for some very considerable period of time, and the patrician ladies concealed beneath their flowing draperies a kind of corset, which they tightened very considerably, for a slight and tapering waist was looked upon as a great beauty in women, and great attention was paid to the formation of the figure, in spite of all that has been written about the purely natural and statuesque forms of the Roman matrons. On the conquest of the Roman Empire by the wild and savage Hunnish tribes, fashion, art, taste, literature, and civilisation were swept ruthlessly away, and a long, weird night of mental darkness may be said to have reigned throughout the land from the tenth to the middle of the fifteenth century, and we see little or nothing of Roman elegance or magnificence of dress to distinguish it above other nations from that period. | 28 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. mother of Brutus, was prcsented with a pair by Julius Casar, the value of which was (4%457, Bracelets are also ornaments of high antiquity, as are rings and brooches of various forms for fastening the dress. Rich gold chains and jewelled fastenings were in common use during this period. The annexed illustration represents a Roman lady of rank about the reign of Heliogabalus. Little alteration appears to have taken place in the general style of costume for some very considerable period of time, and the patrician ladies concealed beneath their flowing draperies a kind of corset, which they tightened very considerably, for a slight and tapering waist was looked upon as a great beauty in women, and great attention was paid to the formation of the fgure, in spite of all that has been written about the purely natural and statuesque forms of the Roman matrons. On the conquest of the Roman Empire by the wild and savage Hunnish tribes, fashion, art, taste, literature, and civilisa- tion were swept ruthlessly away, and a long, weird night of mental darkness may be said to have reigned throughout the lnd from the tenth to the middle of the fifteenth century, and we see little or nothing of Roman elegance or magnificence of dress to distinguish it above other nations from that period. 8 \&* sS @ $ 4 .: L * . A s? - gg d4- 82 |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 41 CHAPTER III. The ladies of Old France—Their fashions during the reign of King Pepin—Revival of the taste for small waists—Introduction of "cottes hardies"—Monkish satire on the Corset in England in the year 1043, curious MS. relating to—The small waists of the thirteenth century—The ancient poem of Launfal—The Lady Triamore, daughter of the King of the Fairies—Curious entry in the household register of Eleanor, Countess of Leicester, date 1265—Corsets worn by gentlemen at that period—The kirtle as worn in England—The penance of Jane Shore—Dress of Blanche, daughter of Edward III—Dunbar's Thistle and Rose—Admiration for small waists in Scotland in the olden time—Chaucer's writings—Small waists admired in his day—The use of the surcoat in England—Reckless hardihood of a determined tailor—The surcoat worn by Marie d'Anjou of France—Italian supremacy in matters of dress—The Medici, Este, and Visconti—Costume of an Italian duchess described—Freaks of fashion in France and Germany—Long trains—Laws to restrain the length of skirts—Snake-toed shoes give place to high-heeled slippers. RESEARCHfails to show us that the ladies of France in their simple Hersvingian and Carlovingian dresses paid any attention to the formation of the waist or its display. But during the ninth century we find the dresses worn extremely tight, and so made as to define the waist and render it as slim as possible; and although the art of making the description of corsets worn by the ladies of Rome was no doubt at that time lost, the revived taste for slender figures led to the peculiar form of corsage known as cottes hardies, which were much stiffened and worn extremely tight. These took the place of the quaint, oddly-formed robes we see draping the figures of Childeric's and Pepin's queens. The "cottes hardies" were, moreover, clasped at the waist by a broad belt, and seem pretty well to have merited their martial name. Very soon after this period it is probable that a much more complete description of corset was invented, although we do not find any marked representation of its form until 1043. A manuscript of that date at present in the | THE cORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. CHAPTER III. 4I l The ladies of Old France--Thelr fashions during the reign of Ring Pepin-Revival of he taste for small wasts-Intioduction of %cotler bardier''--Monkish satire on the Corset in England m the year 1o43, cunous MS, relating to-The small waists of the thrteenth century-The ancent poem of JLaufal-The Lady Tniamore, daughter of the Kng of the Fames-Cuous entry n the household regster of Eleanor, Counntess of Leicester, date 126(-Corsets worn by gentlemen at that peiod-'The krtle as worn m England--The penance of Jane Shore-lDress of Blanche, daughter of Edward III --Dunbar's Tbiatle and Rore--Admration for small waists in Scot- land m the olden time-Chaucer's writings-Small waists admired in his day--The use of the surcoat m England-Reckless hardihood of a determined tailor-The surcoat worn by Marie d'Anyou of France-Italian supremacy in matters of dress- The Medc, Este, and Vsconti-Costume of an Italian duchess descib.d - Freaks of fashon m France and Germmany-Long trains-Laws to restrain the length of skirts-Snake-toed shoes give place to high-heeled slippers. ) ESEARCH Rils to show us hat the ladies of France in heir simple A Hersvmgian and Carlovingian dresses paid any attention to the formation of the wast or its display, But during the ninth century we find the dresses worn extremely tight, and so made as to define the waist and render t as slm as possible ; and although the art of making the description of corsets worn by the ladies of Rome was no doubt at that time lost, the revived taste for slender figures led to the peculiar form of corsage known as catter bardier, which were much stiffened and worn estremely tight. These took the place of the quaint, oddly-formed ] robes we see draping the figures of Childeric's and Pepin's queens, The ' cotter bardie'' were, moreover, clasped at the waist by a broad belt, and seem pretty well to have merited their martial name. Very soon after this period it is probable that a much more complete description of corset was invented, although we do not find any marked representation of its form until 1o45. A manuscript of that date at present in the |
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| 42 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. British Museum bears on it the strange and anomalous figure represented in the annexed illustration. Opinions vary somewhat as to whether its origin might not have been Italian, but we see no reason for adopting this view, and consider it as of decidedly home production. It will be seen that the shoulder, upper part of the arm, and figure are those of a well-formed female, who wears an unmistakable corset, tightly laced, and stiffened by two busks in front, from one of which the lace, with a tag at the end, depends. The head, wings, tail, feet, and claws are all those of a demon or fiend. The drapery is worn so long as to render large knots in it requisite to prevent dragging on the ground. The ring held in the left claw is of gold, and probably intended to represent a massive and costly bracelet. Produced, as this MS. appears to have been, during the reign of Edward the Confessor, there is little doubt that it was a severe monkish satire on the prevailing fashion, and a most ungallant warning to the male sex that alabaster shoulders and slender waists were too often associated with attributes of a rather brimstone character, and that an inordinate love of long, trailing garments and ornaments of precious metals were snares and enticements of a sinister nature. Many of the figures to be found on ancient MSS. after this period show by their contour that the corset was worn beneath the drapery, and Strutt, whose work was published in 1796, thus writes of the customs relating to dress in the period following shortly after:—"In the thirteenth century, and probably much prior to that period, a long and slender waist was considered by our ancestors as a criterion of elegance in the female form. We ought not, therefore, to wonder if it be proved that the tight lacing and compressing of the body was practised by the ladies even in early times, and especially by such of them as were inclined to be corpulent." He then, in order to show at what an early date of the history of this country a confirmed taste for small waists existed, quotes from a very ancient poem, entitled Launfal, in which the Lady Triamore, daughter of the King of the | 4% THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 1British Museum bears on it the strange and anomalous figure represented in the annexed illustration. Opinions vary somewhat as to whether its origin mighht not have been Italian, but we see no reason for adopting this view, and consider it as of decidedly home production, It will be seen that the shoulder, upper part of the arm, and figure are those of a well-formed female, who wears an unmistakable corset, tightly laced, and stiffened by two busks in front, from one of which the lace, with a tag at the end, depends, The head, wings, tail, feet, and clws are all those of a demon or fiend, The drapery is worn so long as to render lrge knots in it requisite to prevent dragging on the ground. The ring held in the left claw is of gold, and probably intended to represent a massive and costly bracelet, Produced, as this MS. appears to have been, during the reign of Edward the Confessor, there is little doubt that it was a severe monkish satire on the prevailing fashion, and a most ungallant warning to the male ses that alabaster shoulders and slender waists were too often associated with attributes of a rather brimstone character, and that an inordinate love of long, trailing garments and ornaments of precious metals were snares and enticements of a sinister nature. Many of the figures to be found on ancient MSS. after this period show by their contour that the corset was worn beneath the drapery, and Strutt, whose work was published in 17g5, thus writes of the customs relating to dress in the period following shortly after :-'*In the thirteenth century, and probably much prior to that period, a long and slender waist was considered by our ancestors as a criterion of elegance in the female form. We ought not, therefore, to wonder if it be proved that the tight lacing and compressing of the body was practised by the ladies even in early times, and especially by such of them as were inclined to be corpulent,'' He then, in order to show at vhat an early date of the history of this country a confirmed taste for small waists existed, quotes from a very ancient poem, entitled lLaunfl, in which the Lady Triamore, daughter of the King of the |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 45 Fairies, and attendant ladies are described. Of two of the latter it is said— "Their kirtles were of rede cendel,* I laced smalle, jollyf, and well, There might none gayer go." In the French version of the same poem it is, we read, more fully expressed. It says, "They were richly habited and very tightly laced." The Lady Triamore is thus described:— "The lady was in a purple pall, With gentill bodye and middle small." Wharton quotes from an ancient poem, which he believes to date as far back as 1200, in which a lover, speaking of the object of his admiration, thus throws down the gauntlet of challenge, and exclaims— "Middle her she hath mensk small." The word mensk or maint being used instead of very or much. Some differences of opinion have existed among writers as to the origin of the word corset. Some are of opinion that the French words corps, the body, and serrer (to tightly inclose or incase), led to the adoption of the term. Madame La Sante gives it as her opinion, however, that it is more probably a corruption of the single word corps, which was formerly written cors, and may be taken as a diminutive form of it. Another view of the matter has been that the name of a rich material called corse, which was at one time extensively used in the manufacture of corsets, may have been thus corrupted. This is scarcely probable, as the word corset was in use at too early a period to admit of that origin. Perhaps as early an instance of the use of the term corset as any in existence may be found as a portion of an entry in the household register of Eleanor, Countess of Leicester, which bears the date May 24, 1265:— * A rich description of silk. | ggSe= TIE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 45 Fairies, and attendant ladies are describcd, Of two of the latter it is said- Their kirtles wcre of rede cendel,* I laced smalle, jollyf, and well( There might none gayer go.'' In the French version of the same poem it is, we read, more fully espressed, It says, ' They were richly habited and very tightly laced,''' The Lady Triamore is thus described :- oThe lady was in a purple pall,' With gentill bodye and middle small.'' Wharton quotes from an ancient poem, which he believes to date as ' far back as 2oo, in which a lover, speaking of the object of his admiration, thus throws down the gauntlet of challenge, and exclaims-- Middle her she hath mensk small,'' The word mienrk or maint being used instead of very or much. Some differences of opinion have existed among writers as to the origin of the word coret. Some are of opinion that the French words corpt, the body, and terrer (to tightly inclose or incase), led to the adoption of the term. Madame La Sante gives it as her opinion, however, that it is more probably a corruption of the single word csrp, which was formerly written corr, and may be taken as a diminutive form of it, Another view of the matter has been that the name of a rich material called corre, which was at one time extensively used in the manufacture of corsets, may have been thus corrupted, This is scarcely probable, as he word corset was in use at too early a period to admit of that origin, Perhaps as early an instance of the use of the term corset as any in esistence may be found as a portion of an entry in the household register of Eleanor, Countess of Leicester, which bears the date May a4, 126g S- A rich description of silk, |
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| 46 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE "Item: Pro ix ulnis radii. Pariensis pro robas æstivas corsetto et clochia pro eodem."* The persons for whom these garments were made were Richard, King of the Normans, and Edward, his son, whose death occurred in the year 1308. So that corsets were, even in those early days, used by gentlemen as well as ladies. The term kirtle, so often referred to, may not clearly convey to the mind of the modern reader the nature of the garment indicated by it, and therefore it may not be amiss to give Strutt's description of it. He says, "The kirtle, or, as it was anciently written 'kertel,' is a part of the dress used by the men and the women, but especially by the latter. It was sometimes a habit of state, and worn by persons of high rank." The garment sometimes called a "surcol" Chaucer renders kirtle, and we have no reason to dispute his authority. Kirtles are very frequently mentioned in old romances. They are said to have been of different textures and of different colours, but especially of green; and sometimes they were laced closely to the body, and probably answered the purpose of the bodice or stays—vide Launfal, before referred to:— "Their kirtles were of rede cendel, I laced smalle, jollyf, and well." To appear in a kirtle only seems to have been a mark of servitude. Thus the lady of Sir Ladore, when he feasted the king, by way of courtesy waited at the table— "The lady was gentyll and small, In kirtle alone she served in hall." We are further informed that at the close of the fifteenth century it was used as a habit of penance, and we read that Jane Shore, when performing penance, walked barefoot, a lighted taper in her hand, and * Item: For nine ells, Paris measure, for summer robes, corsets, and cloaks for the same. | 46 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 8Item : Pro is ulnis radii, Pariensis pro robas astivas corsetto et clochia ] pro eodem,'' TThe persons for whom these garments were made were Richard, ] King of the Normans, and Edward, his son, whose death occurred in the ] year o8. So that corsets were, even in those early days, used by gentlemen as well as ladies, The term kirtk, so often referred to, may not clearly convey to the ] mind of the modern reader the nature of the garment indicated by it, ] and therefore it may not be amiss to give Strutt's description of it, He ] says, The kirtle, or, as it was anciently wrtten 'kertel,' is a part of the ] dress used by the men and the women, but especially by the latter. It ] was sometimes a habit of state, and wor by persons of high rank,'' The ] garment sometimes called a 'urcol'' Chaucer renders irtle, and we ] have no reason to dispute his authority, Kirtles are very frequently mentioned in old romances, They are said to have been of different ] testures and of different colours, but especially of green ; and sometimes ] they were laced closely to the body, and probably answered the purpose [ of the bodice or stays-ide Launfal, before referred to :- o Their kirtles were of rcde cendel, I laced smalle, jollyf, and well,'' u'o appear in a kirtle only seems to have been a mark of servitude, Thus the lady of Sir Ladore, when he feasted the king, by way of ] courtesy waited at the table- eT'he lady was gentyll and small, In kirtle alone she served in hall,'' We are further informed that at the close of the fifteenth century it ] was used as a habit of penance, and we read that Jane Shore, when ] performing penance, walked barefoot, a lighted taper in her hand, and ] Item ; For nine ells, Paris measure, for summer robcs, corsets, and cloaks for the same. |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 49 having only her kirtle upon her back. John Gower, however, who wrote at about the same period as Chaucer, thus describes a company of ladies. They were, says he, "clothed all alike, in kirtles with rich capes or mantles, parti-coloured, white, and blue, embroidered all over with various devices." Their bodies are described as being long and small, and they had crowns of gold upon their heads, as though each of them had been a queen. We find that the tight-laced young ladies of the court of the Lady Triamore "had mantles of green-coloured velvet, handsomely bordered with gold, and lined with rich furs. Their heads were neatly attired in kerchiefs, and were ornamented with cut work and richly-striped wires of gold, and upon their kerchiefs they had each of them a pretty coronal, embellished with sixty gems or more;" and of their pretty mistress it is said in the same poem, that her cheeks were as red as the rose when it first blossoms. Her hair shone upon her head like golden wire, falling beneath a crown of gold richly ornamented with precious stones. Her vesture was purple, and her mantle, lined with white ermine, was also elegantly furred with the same. The Princess Blanche, the daughter of Edward III., the subject of the annexed illustration, appears to have copied closely the dress above described, and, like the maids of honour of the Lady Triamore herself, she is not only richly habited but thoroughly well-laced as well. Thus we see, in the year 1361, the full influence of the corset on the costume of that period. There is another poem, said to be more ancient than even Launfal, which, no doubt, served to give a tone and direction to the fashions of times following after. Here we find a beautiful lady described as wearing a splendid girdle of beaten gold, embellished with rubies and emeralds, about her middle small. Gower, too, when describing a lover who is in the act of admiring his mistress, thus writes:— "He seeth hir shape forthwith, all Hir bodye round, hir middle small." | g------w+--=-------------+----+---=------S- -s -------- THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 49 having only her kirtle upon her back, John Gower, however, who wrote at about the same period as Chaucer, thus describes a company of ladies, They were, says he, '*clothed all alike, in kirtles with rich capes or mantles, parti-coloured, white, and blue, embroidered all over with various devices,'' Their bodies are described as being long and small, and they had crowns of gold upon their heads, as though each of them had been a queen. We find that the tight-laced young ladies of he court of the Lady Triamore ''had mantles of green-coloured velvet, were neatly attired in kerchiefs, and were ornamented with cut work and richly-striped wires of gold, and upon their kerchiefs they had. each of them a pretty coronal, embellished with sisty gems or more ;' and of their pretty mistress it is said in the same poem, that her cheeks were as red as the rose when it first blossoms, Her hair shone upon her head like golden wire, falling beneath a crown of gold richly ornamented with precious stones, Her vesture was purple, and her mantle, lined with white ermine, was also elegantly furred with the same. The Princess BBlanche, the daughter of Edward III., the subject of the annesed illustration, appears to have copied closely the dress above described, and, like the maids of honour of the Lady Triamore herself, she is not only richly habited but thoroughly well-laced as well, Thus we see, in the year ; 1 351, the full influence of the corset on the costume of that period. There is another poem, said to be more ancient than even Launfal, which, no doubt, served to give a tone and direction (to the fashicns of times following after. Here we find a beautiful lady described as wearing a splendid girdle of beatEn gold, embellished with rubies and emeralds, about her miiddle small. Gower, too, when describing a lover who is in the act of admiring his mistress, thus writes :-- He seeth hir shape forthwith, all Hir bodye round, hir middle small,'' |
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| 50 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. That the taste for slender figures was not confined to England will be shown by the following quotation from Dunbar's Thistle and Rose. When the belles of Scotland grouped together are described he tells us that "Their middles were as small as wands." A great number of ancient writings descriptive of female beauty go clearly to prove that both slenderness and length of waist were held in the highest esteem and considered indispensable elements of elegance, and there can be no question that such being the case no pains were spared to acquire the coveted grace a very small, long, and round waist conferred on its possessor. The lower classes were not slow in imitating their superiors, and the practice of tight lacing prevailed throughout every grade of society. This was the case even as far back as Chaucer's day, about 1340. He, in describing the carpenter's wife, speaks of her as a handsome, well-made young female, and informs us that "her body was genteel" (or elegant) and "small as a weasel," and immediately afterwards that she was "Long as a maste, and upright as a bolt." Notwithstanding the strict way in which the waist was laced during the thirteenth century, the talents of the ingenious were directed to the construction of some article of dress which should reduce the figure to still more slender proportions, and the following remarks by Strutt show that tight lacing was much on the increase from the thirteenth to the fourteenth centuries. He says— "A small waist was decidedly, as we have seen before, one criterion of a beautiful form, and, generally speaking, its length was currently regulated by a just idea of elegance, and especially in the thirteenth century. In the fourteenth the women seem to have contracted a vitiated taste, and not being content with their form as God hath made it, introduced | mr ------- s4 THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE, a'hat the taste for slender figures was not confined to England will be shown by the following quotation from Dunbar's 7biale and Rae, When the belles of Scotland grouped together are described he tells us that aTheir middles were as small as wands,'' A great number of ancient writings descriptive of female beauty go -=>2:l clearly to prove that both slenderness and length of waist were held in the highest esteem and considered indispensable elements of elegance, and there can be no question that such being the case no pains were imitating their superiors, and the practice of tight lacing prevailed ] throughout every grade of society, This was the case even as far back ] as Chaucer's day, about 134o. He, in describing the carpenter's wife, j speaks of her as a handsome, well-made young female, and informs us ] that '*her body was genteel'' (or elegant) and ''small as a weasel,'' and ] immediately afterwards that she was 'Long as a maste, and upright as a bolu'' Notwithstanding the strict way in which the waist was laced during ] the thirteenth century, the talents of the ingenious were directed to the ] construction of some article of dress which should reduce the figure to ] z:\< fourteenth centuries, He says- 88A small waist was decidedly, as we have seen before, one criterion of a beautiful form, and, generally speaking, its length was currently regu- lated by a iust idea of elegance, and especially in the thirteenth century- In the fourteenth the women seem to have contracted a vitiated taste, and not being content with their form as God hath made it, introduced |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 53 the corset or bodice—a stiff and unnatural disguisement even in its origin." How far this newly-introduced form of the corset became a "disguisement" will be best judged of by a glance at the foregoing illustration, which represents a lady in the dress worn just at the close of the thirteenth century. The term surcoat was given to this new introduction. This in many instances was worn over the dress somewhat after the manner of the body of a riding-habit, being attached to the skirt, which spreads into a long trailing train. An old author, speaking of these articles of dress, thus writes:— "There came to me two women wearing surcoats, longer than they were tall by about a yard, so that they were obliged to carry their trains upon their arms to prevent their trailing upon the ground, and they had sleeves to these surcoats reaching to the elbows." The trains of these dresses at length reached such formidable dimensions that Charles V. of France became so enraged as to cause an edict to be issued hurling threats of excommunication at the heads of all those who dared to wear a dress which terminated "like the tail of a serpent." Notwithstanding this tremendously alarming threat, a tailor was found fully equal to the occasion, who, in spite of the terrors inspired by candle, bell, and book, set to work (lion-hearted man that he was) and made a magnificent surcoat for Madame du Gatinais, which not only trailed far behind on the ground, but actually "took five yards of Brussels net for sleeves, which also trailed." History, or even tradition, fails to inform us what dreadful fate overtook this desperate tailor after the performance of a feat so recklessly daring; but we can scarcely fancy that his end could have been of the kind common to tailors of less audacious depravity. The bodies of these surcoats were very much stiffened, and so made as to admit of being laced with extreme tightness. They were E | TIIE CORSET AND TIIE CR1NOLINE. s3 . the corset or bodice--a stiff and unnatural disguisement even in its origin.'' How far this newly-introduced form of the corset became a '*dis- guisement'' will be best judged of by a glance at the foregoing illustration, which represents a lady in the dress worn just at the close of the thirteenth century, The term surcaat was given, to this new introduc- tion, This in many instances was worn over the dress somewhat after the manner of the body of a riding-habit, being attached to the skirt, which spreads into a long trailing train, AAn old author, speaking of these articles of dress, thus writes :- There came to me two women wearing srcoats, longer than they were tall by about a yard, so that they were obliged to carry their trains upon their arms to prevent their trailing upon the ground, and they had sleeves to these surcoats reaching to the elbows'' The trains of these dresses at length reached such formidable dimen- sions that Charles V. of France became so enraged as to cause an edict to be issued hurling threats of excommunication at the heads of all those who dared to wear a dress which terminated '-like the tail of a serpent'' Notwithstanding this tremendously alarming threat, a tailor was found fully equal to the occasion, who, in spite of the terrors inspired by candle, bell, and book, set to work (lion-hearted man that he was) and made a magnificent surcoat for Madame du Gatinais, which not only trailed far behiud on the ground, but actually '*took fue yard of Bruelr et far sleever, bicb alro traia,'' History, or even tradition, fails to inform us what dreadful fate overtook this desperate tailor after the performance of a feat so recklessly daring; but we can scarcely fancy that his end could have been of the kind common to tailors of less audacious depravity, 'he bodies of these surcoats were very much stiffened, and so made as to admit of being laced with estreme tightness, They were aaa--sw---==---- |
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| often very richly ornamented with furs and costly needlework. As fashion changed, dresses were made with open fronts, so as to be worn over the surcoat without altogether concealing it. A portrait of Marie d'Anjou, Queen of France, shows this arrangement of costume. The waist appears very tightly laced, and the body of the surcoat much resembles the modern bodice, but is made by stiffening and cut to perform the part of a very strong and efficient corset. Until the termination of the fourteenth century very little change appears to have been made either in costume or the treatment of the figure, but at the commencement of the fifteenth century, when such noble families as the Medici, Este, and Visconti established fashions and styles of costume for themselves, each house vied with the other in the splendour of their apparel. The great masters of the period, by painting ideal compositions, also gave a marked tone to the increasing taste for dress. The costume of an Italian duchess, whose portrait is to be seen in the Academy at Pisa, has been thus described:—"The headdress is a gold coronet, the chemisette is finely interwoven with gold, the under-dress is black, the square bodice being bordered with white beads, the over-dress is gold brocade, the sides are open, and fastened together again with gold agrafes; the loose sleeves, like the chemisette, are of golden tissue, fastened to the shoulders with agrafes. The under-sleeves, which are of peculiar construction, and are visible, are crimson velvet, and reach to the centre of the hand. They are cut out at the wrists, and white puffings of the same material as the chemisette protrude through the openings." In both France and Germany a great many strange freaks of fashion appear to have been practised about this time. The tight, harlequin-like dress was adopted by the gentlemen, whilst the long trains again stirred the ire of royalty. We find Albert of Saxony issuing the following laws:—"No wives or daughters of knights are to wear dresses exceeding one yard and a-half in length, no spangles in their caps, nor high frills round their throats." During the reign of the Dauphin in France many changes in dress were | 54 THE cORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. often very richly ornamented with furs and. costly needlework. As fashion chhanged, dresses were made with open fronts, so as to be worn over the surcoat without altogether concealing it. A portrait of Marie d'Anjou, yeen of France, shows this arrangement of costume. The waist appears very tightly laced, and the body of the surcoat much resembles the modern bodice, but is made by stiffening and cut to perform the part of a very strong and efficient corset. Until the termination of the fourteenth century very little change appears to have been made either in costume or the treatment of he figure, but at the commencement of the fifteenth century, when such noble families as the Medici, Este, and Visconti established fashions and styles of costume for themselves, each house vied with the other in the splendour of their apparel. The great masters of the period, by painting ideal compositions, also gave a marked tone to the increasing taste for dress, The costume of an Italian duchess, whose portrait is to be seen in the Academy at Pisa, has been thus described :--The headdress is a gold coronet, the chemisette is finely interwoven with gold, the under-dress is black, the square bodice being bordered with white beads, the over-dress is gold brocade, the sides are open, and fastened together again with gold agraf; the loose sleeves, like the chemisette, are of golden tissue, fastened to the shoulders with agrafe. The under-sleeves, which are of peculiar construction, and are visible, are crimson velvet, and reach to the centre of the hand. They are cut out at the wrists, and white puffings of the same material as the chemisette protrude through the openiigs,' In both France and Germany a great many strange freaks of fshion appear to have been practised about this time. The tight, harlequin-like dress was adopted by the gentlemen, whilst the long trains again stirred the ire of royalty, We find Albert of Saxony issuing the following laws :--'No wives or daughters of knights are to wear dresses exceeding one yard and a-half in length, no spangles in their caps, nor high fills round their throats,'' JDuring the reign of the Dauphin in France many changes in dress were |
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| THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. 59 effected. The length of the sleeves was much curtailed, and the preposterously long toes of the shoes reduced to a convenient standard. The ladies appear to have for some time resisted the innovation, but one Poulaine, an ingenious Parisian shoemaker, happening to devise a very attractive shoe with a heel fitted to it, the ladies hailed joyfully the new favourite, and the old snake-toed shoe passed away. Still, it was no uncommon thing to see some fop of the period with one shoe white and the other black, or one boot and one shoe. | gr---- -==+-++---=++-- - %--- THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. -=---=-----*; S9 effected, The length of the sleeves was much curtailed, and thc preposterously long toes of the shoes reduced to a convenient standard. The ladies appear to have for some time resisted the innovation, but one Poulaine, an ingenious Parisian shoemaker, happening to devise a very attractive shoe with a heel fitted to it, the ladies hailed joyfully the new favourite, and the old snake-toed shoe passed away, Still, it was z:222N--------- . a (' sw 4 ' N .zR N /,' N. . -.f4: 'a 4 e. . s . 4 s, ii '* A e A*- 4 9 A?. Ls' 5 |
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| 66 THE CCORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. CHAPTER IV. The bonnet à canon and sugarloaf headdress—Headdress of the women of Normandy at the present day—Odd dress of King Louis XI.—Return of Charles VIII. from Naples—A golden time for tailors and milliners—General change of fashion—Costumes of the time of Francis I. of France and Maximilian of Germany—General use of pins in France and England—Masks worn in France—Establishment of the empire of Fashion in France—The puffed or bouffant sleeves of the reign of Henry II.—The Bernaise dress—Costume of the unfortunate Marie Stuart—Rich dresses and long slender waists of the period—The tight-lacing of Henry III. of France—The Emperor Joseph of Austria, his edict forbidding the use of stays, and how the ladies regarded it—Queen Catherine de Medici and Queen Elizabeth of England—The severe form of Corsets worn in both France and England—The corps—Steel Corset covers of the period—Royal standard of fashionable slenderness—The lawn ruffs of Queen Bess—The art of starching—Voluminous nether-garments worn by the gentlemen of the period—Fashions of the ladies of Venice—Philip Stubs on the ruff—Queen Elizabeth's collection of false hair—Stubs furious at the fashions of ladies—King James and his fondness for dress and fashion—Restrictions and sumptuary laws regarding dress—Side-arms of the period. FROM about 1380 to some time afterwards headdresses of most singular form of construction were in general wear in fashionable circles. One of these, the bonnet à canon, was introduced by Isabel of Bavaria. The "sugar-loaf" headdress was also in high esteem, and considered especially becoming and attractive. The accompanying illustration faithfully represents both of these. The latter in a modified form is still worn by the women of Normandy. Throughout the reign of Louis XI. dress continued to be most sumptuous in its character. Velvet was profusely worn, with costly precious stones encircling the trimmings. Sumptuary laws were issued right and left, with a view to the correction of so much extravagance, whilst the king himself wore a battered, shabby old felt cap, with a bordering of leaden figures of the Virgin | 6o THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE. CHAPTER IV. The bonnst ä canon and sugarloaf headdress-Headdress of the women of Normandy at the present day-Odd dress of King Louis XI,-Return of Charles VIII. from Naples-A golden time for tailors and milliners-General change of fashion- Costumes of the time of Francis I, of France and Maximilian of Germany- General use of pins in France and Engl:nd-Nasks worn in France-Establishment of the empire of Fashion in France-The puffd or g@ant sleeves of the reign of Henry II.-/The Bernaise dress-Costume of he unfortunate Marie Stuart-Rich dresss and long slender waists of the period-The tight-lacing of Henry III, of France-The Lmperor Joseph of Austria, his edict fobidding the use of stays, and how the ldies rcgarded it--Queen Catherine de Medici and Queen Elizabeth of LLngland-The severe form of Corsets worn in both France and England-The orpr --Stcel Corsct covers of the period-Royal standard of fshionable slenderness-The lawn ruffs of Queen Dess--The art of starching-Voluminous nether-garments worn by the genlemen of the period-Fashions of the ladies of Venice--Philip Stubs on the ruff-Qucen Elizabeth's collection of flte hnir-Stubs furious at the fshions of ladies-Sing James and his fondness for dress and fshion-Restrictions and sumptuary laws regarding dress-Side-arms of the period. [T'ROM about 38o to some time afterwards headdresses of most A singular form of construction were in general wear in fashionable circles. One of these, the bonnet ä caanon, was introduced by Isabel of Bavaria. The 'sgar-leaf'? headdress was also in high esteem, and con- sidered especially becoming and attractive, The accompanying illustration faithfully represents both of these. The ltter in a modified form is still worn by the women of Normandy, Throughout the reign of Louis X1. dress continued to be most sumptuous in its claracter. Velvet was profusely worn, with costly precious stones encircling the trimmings. Sumptuary laws were issued right and left, with a view to the correction \<zz.z:z -- |
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| viii PREFACE from Smith, who himself was prone to include the most extravagant myths in his pages, calls his folio A General and True History of the Lives and Actions of the Most Famous Highwaymen. Both of them include pirates and murderers. Of the "truth" of much in Smith and Johnson, the less said the better. No one has ever reprinted those authors in their original extravagance, or their grossness. It would be impossible; and, if possible, it would not be entertaining. Nor has any one ever edited them, or even written an independent history of the highwaymen. When we consider how astonishingly popular those romances have ever been which have had Claude Du Vall, and Turpin, and their like for heroes, this is not a little surprising. Perhaps the task has been abandoned because of the difficulty—the almost insuperable difficulty—of sifting fact from fiction, and because of a chilling sense that it would be a thankless task to present the highwayman as he really was: a fellow rarely heroic, generally foul-mouthed and cruel, and often cowardly. No novelist would be likely to thank the frank historian for this disservice; and I do not think the historian who came to the subject in this cold scientific spirit of a demonstrator in surgery would be widely read. | viii PREFACE /irom Sinith, cho himse[f' eas prone to include fhe nost ea'traragant yths in lis pages, calls his folio A GENERA. AND TRUE IIIsTORY oF THE LIVES AND AcTIONS oF THE Mosr FaMOUS IIDGHWAYMEN. oth of them include pirates and anurderers, Of t1e '' t0a4th '' of much in Smitk and Johson, the less said the better. No oae has erer reprinted those authors in fheiyr original ea'travagaace, or their grossness. I( eould be inpossible ; an4, jf' possible, it would asot be entertaiing. Noy has aauy one erer edited fhen, or eren eritten an independent istoyry f fhe higl1caynean, IfDen we consider lotw astonish- 4n9/ yh0ypt4ar those ronyaaces hae erer been zclich lave kad Claude Du Pall, and Irpin, and theiyr likke for beroes, this is not a little surprisig. Perhaps the task las been abandoned becase of the d(ficulty-he almos insperable di/iculty -qf' sjfting fact from fiction, and becase qf a chilling sense that it could be a thankless task o present the hiiglzoaynan as he really eas : a fellow rarely leroic, generally foul-noutied and crel, and often cowardly. No novelist could be likely to thank the fi'ank listorian for this dis- servioe ; and I do not thi1k thhe historian vho came o the suject in this cold scienific spirit qf' a demonstrator in surgery vould be idely yead, |
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| PREFACE ix Most of us like to keep a few of the illusions we believed in when schoolboys. Scientific historians have degraded many of our ancient heroes and exalted the villains, for whom of old no mud was too thick and slab. Beliefs are being assailed on every side. To abolish the traditional courtesy of Claude Du Vall or the considerate conduct of Captain Hind would, therefore, be strokes of the unkindest, and I have here attempted no such iconoclasm. Even where I cannot believe, I have told the tale—whenever it has been worth the telling—as it is found in criminal trials, or in Smith or Johnson, and other old sources, decorously stripped of much vile language. For really, where much that seems incredible may be fully proved, and where the believable turns out not rarely to be false, 'tis your only way. To continue the story of the highwaymen from Smith and Johnson down to the approaching end of all such things in the beginning of the nineteenth century, is like taking up and concluding a half-told tale. But it was worth the doing. Only in respect of the great figure Turpin has always made, has it been found really necessary to seriously consider and re-state the career of that much-overrated scoundrel, and to put him in his proper place: a very much lower one than he usually occupies. | PREFACE Iost of as like to keep a few of tle illusions ace belieced in when schoolboys, Scientific his- foriaas hare degyraded nsaay qf our aaucient leroes and eralted tle oilluins, for chons of' old no nvwd eas too thic and slab, Beligfs are beig assailed on eoery side, Tb abolisl the traditional cortesy qf' Claude D Pall or the considerate condct of Captain I/ind could, thergfore, be strokes of' the nkindest, and I lace here attemtpted a+0 such iconoclasns, Ecen chere I cawnot be- liece, I hace told thie tale--vhenecer it las been corth the telling-as it is found in crinsiual frials, or in Sith or Jolaswso, a other old sources, decorously stripped of' ma4cl ile lagRag0- Fo) really, elere nyt4chi that seemis incredible aay be fully proved, and wuhere thhe believable twrns out uot rarely to be false, 'tis yor ouly way. Ib contin4e the story of the kigfeaymen from Smith aa1d Jolauson dowwn to the approacling end of' all such things i the beyining of the nine- eeuth centry, is like takiy; t0 aud coucluding a ka[f-told tale. But it acas corth the doing. Only it respect of tke great fyre Turpiu has aluwvays usade, as it been fond really necessary Eo seriously cousider and re-state the career of fhat uuuch-overrated scouudrcl, and to pttt hint in his propcr pace : a very nsuch lower one fhan he usay occupies. |
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| x PREFACE Hero-worshippers of the highwaymen we cannot be; as thorough disbelievers of their picturesque exploits we dare not pose: for the rest, the proper spirit in which to treat the subject is that of ironic tolerance. CHARLES G. HARPER. Petersham, Surrey, October 1908. | PREFCE I/ero-worskippers of the kigltoaymien ee can- as0 be; as thorouyl disbelievers of their picturesgue eaploits ce dare no pose : for the rest, the proper spirit in ehich to treat the subbject is that of' iroic toleraaiCe. PETERSHAM, SURREY, Oetober 1908. CBAILES G. IILAv== |
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| HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY THE GENERAL DECLENSION FROM OUTLAW TO HIGHWAYMAN, AND THENCE TO FOOTPAD, THIEF, AND BURGLAR—GAMALIEL RATSEY—THOMAS DUN, OF DUNSTABLE O, there was never a life like the robber's, So careless, and gay, and free. And its end? why, a cheer from the crowd below, And a leap from the leafless tree. Half-hours! In the days when the highwaymen flourished, and made travel perilous for law-abiding persons, a five-minutes' interview with one of these "Knights of the Road," who were but rarely knightly in their manners, would have been more than sufficient. Travellers, who had been VOL. I. I | =S; Nm, -. --. HHLF-HOURS WITH 'THE HKGHWAMEN CHA PTER I INTRODUCTORY THE GENERAL TDECLENSION FROM OUTLAW TO HIGH- WAYMAN, AND THESCE TO FOOTPAD, THIEF, ANT BURGLAR--GAMALIEL RATSEY-TIOMAS TUN, OF DUNSTABLE O, there was never a life likke the robber's, So careless, and gay, and free. Amu its end / why, a cheer from the crowd below, aad a leap fromy the leaess tree. IALF-BoURs1 In the days when the highwaymen flourished, and made travel perilous for law-abiding persons, a five-minutes' interview with one of these '' Enights of the Road,'' who were but rarely knightly in their manncrs, would have been more than sufficient. Travellers, who had been |
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| 2 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN violently abused, threatened, and robbed, did not observe that atmosphere of romance about the highwaymen, with which, not only modern times, but their own age, enwrapped them. The highwaymen have ever been accounted romantic, as we shall see in these ensuing pages; from the more or less mythical Robin Hood, down to the Carolean age of Captain Hind, Swiftnicks, and Du Vall, whose exploits were followed with interest and sympathy by their contemporaries. From a lengthy study of these things, one fact rises prominently above all others: it is the fact that the highwayman's only ceased to be a romantic figure when he stopped and robbed one's self, under the usual circumstances of coarse vituperation and personal indignity. On all other occasions, although he commonly practised after nightfall, he paradoxically moved in a rosy atmosphere, in company with the knightly figures of ancient chivalry (who themselves, if the truth of it were told, would probably be disclosed as a rather sordid crew). The thrilling romance—or the side-splitting humorous circumstances, as the case might be—of one's acquaintance or next-door neighbour being plundered, threatened with death at the pistol-muzzle, and then, with his very coat stripped off his back, being bidden make haste away, is obvious enough, and the highwayman who did all the threatening and the plundering is easily seen to be at once a hero and a humorist; but when he met yourself in the darkling lane, | a IADREOURS WI7E 7EE IGERAYAEA violently abused, threatened, and robbed, dil not observe that atmosphere of romance about the highwaymen, with which, not only modern times, but their own age, enwrapped them. The high- waymen have ever been accounted romantic, as we shall see in these ensuing p8ges; from the more or less mythical Robin Eood, down to the Carolean age of Captain Eind, Swiftnicks, and JDu Vall, whose exploits were followed with interest and sympathy by their contemporaries. From a lengthy study of these things, one fact rises prominently above all others : it is the fact that the highwayman's only ceased to be a romantic figure when he stopped and robbed one's self, under the usual circumstances of coarse vituperation and personal indignity. On all other occasions, although he commonly practised after nightfall, he paradoxically moved in a rosy atmo- sphere, in company with the knightly figures of ancient chivalry (who themselves, if the truth of it were told, would probably be disclosed as a rather sordid crew). The thrilling romance--or the sile-splitting humorous circumstances, as the case might be -of one's acquaintance or next-door neighbour being plundered, threatened with death at the pistol-muzzle, and then, with his very coat stripped offf his back, being bidden make hhaste away, is obvious enough, and the highwayman who did all the threatening and the plundering is easily seen to be at once a hero and a humorist; but when he met yourself in the darkling lane, |
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| PROGRESS AND DECLINE 3 and had your purse, your coat, and your gold watch, and d——d you because you did not carry more wealth, and so make it better worth the while of a gentleman like himself to be out upon the roads at such unconscionable hours—why, then he was a rogue of the most debased description, and the occasion was not so much humorous as tragical; while, as for Romance: what sickly cant is this? Where are the patrol? What are the peace-officers doing, to earn their pay? Is this a civilised country? We shall see in these pages the fine flower and the gradual declension of the highwaymen: shall trace the mythical and the almost wholly imaginary figures to the time when, under Charles the First and the Commonwealth, it was difficult to tell where the Cavalier ended and the highwayman began; and shall thence come, by way of the disbanded troopers, who turned highway robbers in William the Third's reign, to that curious age when there was an even chance that the armed and mounted man who bade you "Stand and deliver!" was a baronet, or a footman out of place, turned gentleman of the road to support the vices he had learned of his masters. From the middle of the eighteenth century, to its close—the era of Maclaine and Sixteen String Jack, the art of highway robbery becomes less idealised. There is more police-court about it, and less hazy glamour. Beau Brocade is a fine figure, well-dressed and splendidly mounted, on the heath, but in the dock at Bow Street, and | PROGRESS AAD DECLNE and had your purse, your coat, and your gold watch, and d-d you because you did not carry more wealth, and so make it better worth the while of a gentleman like himself to be out upon the roads at such unconscionable hours-Why, then he was a rogue of the most debased descrip- tion, and the occasion was not so much humorous as tragical ; while, as for Romance : what sickly cant is this ? Where are the patrol ? What are the peace-officers doing, to earn their pay ? Is this a civilised country P We shall see in these pages the fine flower and the gradual declension of the highwaymen : shall trace the mythical and the almost wholly imaginary figures to the time when, under Charles the First and the Commonwealth, it was difficult to tell where the Cavalier ended and the highway- man began ; and shall thence come, by way of the disbanded troopers, who turned highway robbers in William the Third's reign, to that curious age when there was an even chance that the armed and mounted man who bade you '' Stand and deliver! '' was a baronet, or a footman out of place, turned gentleman of the road to support the vices he had learned of his masters. rom the middle of the eighteenth century, to its close-the era of Maclaine and Sixteen String Jack, the art of highway robbery becomes less idealised. There is more police-court about it, and less hazy glamour, Beau Brocade is a fine figure, well-dressed and splendidly mounted, on the heath, but in the dock at Bow Street, and |
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| 4 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN ater at the Old Bailey, he never showed to advantage, Sixteen String Jack excepted, with his pea-green coat and his bouquet, as big as a cabbage. And as the eighteenth century closed and gave place to the nineteenth, the mounted highwayman gradually disappeared, and the footpad, a miserable, muddy, cowardly figure, for whom no one ever had a good word, is seen in his dark lurk, in the wayside ditch, not often courageous enough to work alone, and generally found in couples, ready perhaps with the suffocating pitch-plasters that so terrified the wayfarers of that time. The footpad never had the slightest inkling of romance, and was always brutal, whether he clapped that pitch-plaster over your mouth, or terrified you, or finished off his examination of your pockets by knocking you down and jumping on your body. A far cry, indeed, from the generous days of Captain Hind, or Claude Du Vall. No one would ever contemplate a work on "Half-Hours with the Footpads." It would be to introduce the reader into the very worst of society, and the least entertaining; and so we come by degrees to the present era of the housebreakers and the newspaper records, where you may seek romance if you will. The history of the highwaymen is a lengthy emergence from ancient fables and marvellous rustic folklore, to more settled records. It is not peculiar in that gradual development. Such is | 4 AALFAOURS WI7E 2EE EIGERA FAE later at the Old Bailey, he never showed to advantage, Sixteen String Jack excepted, with his pea-green coat and his bouquet, as big as a cabbage. And as the eighteenth century closed and gave place to the nineteenth, the mounted highwayman gradually disappeared, and the foot- pad, a miserable, muddy, cowardly figure, for whom no one ever had a good word, is seen in his dark lurk, in the wayside ditch, not often courageous enough to work alone, and generally found in couples, ready perbaps with the suffo- cating pitch-plasters that so terrified the wayfarers of that time. The footpad never had the slightest inkling of romance, and was always brutal, whether he clapped that pitch-plaster over your mouth, or terrified you, or finished off his examination of your pockets by knocking you down and jumping on your body, A far cry, indeed, from the generous days of Captain Hind, or Claude lDu Vall. No one would ever contemplate a work on ''Ealf-Eours with the Footpads,'' It would be to introduce the reader into the very worst of society, and the least entertaining ; and so we come by degrees to the present era of the house- breakers and the newspaper records, where you may seek romance if you will, The history of the highwaymen is a lengthy emergence from ancient fables and marvellous rustic folklore, to more settled records. It is not peculiar in that gradual development, Such is |
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| ADVENT OF BURGLARS, ETC. 5 the evolution of all history. But that of the highwaymen begins with the giants and the heroes, continued down through the legendary period of Robin Hood, to the times of the Civil War in England, between King Charles and his Parliament, when highway robbers cloaked their villainies with Royalist partisanship, to the less romantic eighteenth century, and finally ended, early in the nineteenth century, with all the glamour and tinselled things of the past, in squalid, commonplace circumstances. The highwaymen begin in the dimness of antiquity, continue very largely as heroic myths throughout the middle ages, become philanthropic and chivalric figures in succeeding eras, and later are seen to be mere masquerading footmen, brave only in their masters' fine clothes, seeking money wherewith to gamble and to live dissolute lives. They end, sordid, mud-splashed figures, from which romance shrinks; in no detail distinguishable from such vermin as the footpads, who on dark nights robbed women and children, and defenceless old men, for coppers in solitary lanes, and fled in terror from the robust. When the profession of highwayman became extinct, those of pickpocket, card-sharper, and burglar were greatly reinforced. Some severe censors of modern times declare that the Joint Stock and Limited Liability Acts were passed in the interest of the classes in whose veins the highwayman blood flowed, and whose instincts could not, in the altered conditions of life, find | aDPEN2' OF BRGLAAS, E2C. the evolution of all history. But that of the highwaymen begins with the giants and the heroes, continued down through the legendary period of Bobin Hood, to the times of the Civil War in England, between King Charles and his Tarliament, when highway robbers cloaked their villainies with Royalist partisanship, to the less romantic eightecnth century, and finally ended, early in the nineteenth century, with all the glamour and tinselled things of the past, in squalid, commonplace circumstances. The highwaymen begin in the dimness of antiquity, continue very largely as heroic myths throughout the middle ages, become philanthropic and chivalric figures in succeeding eras, and later are seen to be mere masquerading footmen, brave only in their masters' fine clothes, seeking money wherewith to gamble and to live dissolute lives. They end, sordid, mud-splashed figures, from which romance shrinks; in no detail distinguishable from such vermin as the footpads, who on dark nights robbed women and children, and defenceless old men, for coppers in solitary lanes, and fled in terror from the robust. When the profession of highwayman became extinct, those of pickpocket, card-sharper, and burglar were greatly reinforced. Some severe censors of modern times declare that the Joint Stock and lLimited Liability Acts were passed in the interest of the classes in whose veins the highwayman blood flowed, and whose instincts could not, in the altered conditions of life, find |
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| 6 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN expression on the road. As company promoters of the Whitaker Wright and Jabez Balfour type, it has been said, these providential enactments enabled them to satisfy their natural leanings. And so the old world journeys down the ringing grooves of change, even as Tennyson desired it should do, though perhaps not on the exact lines of his thoughts. There are no heroes in these days; or, at the most of it, the hero of to-day, beslavered with overmuch praise, is discovered to-morrow to be a greatly overrated person, not so heroic as ourselves, if the truth were known and every one had his due. The very last hero in the records of these allied criminal enterprises was Charles Peace, the burglar, who was hanged February 25th, 1879, for the murder (not in the way of his business), of Mr. Dyson, at Banner Cross, near Sheffield, on November 29th, 1876. There can be no doubt that "Charley," as the police themselves almost affectionately called him, would in a more favourable era have been a highwayman. He had the instincts for the career, and was undoubtedly courageous enough, resourceful enough, and sufficiently equipped with what passed for wit and humour to have shone with no dim light, even in such days as those of Hind and Du Vall. He was not a hero, and the age insisted that he should ply a less respected craft than that of the highwayman, but he could have risen to such an occasion on the road, and perhaps because the public dimly saw as much, he figures | 6 ALAEOURS HI7E 7EE BIGEIAYAIEN expression on the road. As company promoters of the Whitaker Wright and Jabez Balfour type, it has been said, these providential enactments enabled them to satisfy their natural leanings- And so the old world journeys down the ringing grooves of change, even as Tennyson desired it should do, though perhaps not on the exact lines of his thoughts. There are no heroes in these days; or, at the most of it, the hero of to-day, beslavered with overmuch praise, is discovered to-morrow to be a greatly overrated person, not so heroic as ourselves, if the truth were known and every one hhad his due, The very last hero in the records of these allied criminal enterprises was Charles Peace, the burglar, who was hanged February 25th, 1879, for the murder (not in the way of his business), of Mr, Dyson, at Banner Cross, near Sheffield, on November 29th, 1876. There can be no doubt that '' Charley,'' as the police themselves almost affectionately called him, would in a more favourable era have been a highwayman. Be had the instincts for the career, and was undoubtedly courageous enough, resource- ful enough, and sufficiently equipped with what passed for wit and humour to have shone with no dim light, even in such days as those of Eind and Duu Vall, Be was not a hero, and the age in- sisted that he should ply a less respected craft than that of the highwayman, but he could have risen to such an occasion on the road, and perhaps because the public dimly saw as much, he figures |
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| PEACE, THE BURGLAR 9 in the imagination less as the armed midnight burglar he was, ready in cold blood to shoot down any one who stood in his way, than as a wonderfully daring and skilful adventurer, whose known exploits and whose legendary doings—for legends have accumulated around his well-known and ascertained career—can stir the pulse and heat the imagination. He was well-equipped even in the accident of his name. The heathen gods themselves might have laughed in their heavens—for humour was appreciated among the Olympians—at the sardonic jest of one named Peace prowling at dead of night, armed with a six-chambered revolver, ready and willing to slay those who should bar his path. And then how fine his gauge of the average intelligence, which even nowadays does not often range beyond that primitive conception of the typical burglar, in which he is pictured in the ankle-jacks, the breeches, the velveteen coat, and the moleskin cap of Bill Sikes. He saw that was the mental picture the British public cherished of gentlemen of his trade, and he took his cue therefrom, posing as an independent gentleman. It mattered little that his physiognomy actually reproduced the Bill Sikes head and face, with remarkable closeness; he dressed well, talked well, lived in nicely furnished houses in respectable neighbourhoods, and—last and clinching sign of respectability—he kept a horse and trap. Until his arrest on the night of November 17th, 1878, in the act of committing a burglary at St. John's Park, Blackheath, he was a respected | PEACE, 2EE BURGLAR in the imagination less as the armed midnight burglar he was, ready in cold blood to shoot down any one who stood in his way, than as a wonder- fully daring and skilful adventurer, whose known exploits and whose legendary doings-for legends have accumulated around his well-known and ascertained career-can stir the pulse and heat the imagination. He was well-equipped even in the accident of his name. The heathen gods them- selves might have laughed in their heavens-for humour was appreciated among the Olympians-at the sardonic jest of one named Peace prowling at dead of night, armed with a six-chambered revolver, ready and willing to slay those who should bar his path. And then how fine his gauge of the average intelligence, which even nowadays does not often range beyond that primitive conception of the typical burglar, in which he is pictured in the ankle-jacks, the breeches, the velveteen coat, and thhe moleskin cap of Bill Sikes. He saw that was the mental picture the British public cherished of gentlemen of his trade, and he took his cue there- from, posing as an independent gentleman. IIt mattered little that his physiognomy actually reproduced the Bill Sikes head and face, with remarkable closeness ; he dressed well, talked well, lived in nicely furnished houses in respect- able neighbourhoods, and-last and clinching sign of respectability-he kept a horse and trap. Until his arrest on the night of November 17th, 1878, in the act of committing a burglary at St. John's Park, Blackheath, he was a respected |
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| 10 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN villa resident, who had a liking for art, a great fondness for music, and, in general, cultivated tastes. There was no reason, except such reason or such elements of chance, as may be found in the busy conduct of his trade, why he should ever have been caught. He burgled as cleverly as he lived; and had too much sense to work in company. Keeping his own counsel, and working alone, he was quite sure no pal would betray him. His impudent assurance is well displayed in the authentic and well-known anecdote of his offering a choice cigar from among some he had looted, to a tradesman well acquainted with him. He entered the Peckham chemist's shop, made a purchase, passed the time o' day, and offered him his cigar-case. The shopkeeper took one, and later smoked it with great satisfaction. When next Peace entered the shop, the shopkeeper said: "That was a fine cigar, sir, you gave me the other day." "Yes," replied Peace, "they are good. I can't afford to buy, so I steal them." "Do you?" rejoined the man, with a laugh at the absurdity of such a statement from a customer so apparently respectable as Peace; "I wish, then, you would steal me some more." "I will!" said Peace; and he did. He had the effrontery to again burgle the place whence his original supply had come. "Here," he said in a day or two, giving the shopkeeper a box full, "are the cigars I pro- | o AADAEOURS WI7E 77E EIGEHA YME villa resident, who had a liking for art, a great fondness for music, and, in general, cultivated tastes, There was no reason, except such reason or such elements of chance, as may be found in the busy conduct of his trade, why he should ever have been caught. Ee burgled as cleverly as he lived ; and had too much sense to work in company. Keeping his own counsel, and working alone, he was quite sure no pal would betray him. His impudent assurance is well displayed in the authentic and well-known anecdote of his offering a choice cigar from among some he had looted, to a tradesman well acquainted with him. Ee entered the Peckham chemist's shop, made a purchase, passed the time o' day, and offered him his cigar-case. The shopkeeper took one, and later smoked it with great satisfaction. When next Peace entered the shop, the shop- keeper sid : '' That was a fine cigar, sir, you gave me the other day,'' 'Yes,'' repliedPeace, '' they are good. I can't afford to buy, so I steal them.'' ''Do you P '' rejoined the man, with a laugh at the absurdity of such a statement from a customer so apparently respectable as Peace ; '' wish, then, you would steal me some more,'' '*I will!'' said Peace; and he did. Be had the effrontery to again burgle the place whence his original supply had come. ''Eere,'' he said in a day or two, giving the shopkeeper a box full, '' are the cigars I pro- |
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| CAPTAIN ALEXANDER SMITH II mised to steal for you." The delighted recipient thought how exquisitely his customer's kindness and humour blended. There is nothing neater in all the history of highwaymen than this anecdote, twinkling brightly amid the matter-of-fact records of a degenerate day. There is plentiful evidence that when Captain Alexander Smith in 1719-20 wrote and published his work upon the highwaymen and other evil-doers, he based his book upon the many chapbooks and broadsides then in existence. Many of them may even now be found by those who do not mind searching for them, but whether they will repay the trouble is quite another matter. He includes in his gallery even Robin Hood and Sir John Falstaff; and, not concerned to point out their legendary or merely literary character, gives an exact (though necessarily not a truthful) biography of each. Several editions of Smith exist; some in three, others in two volumes. The title-pages vary largely, but all are extremely lengthy, and so curious that it is well worth while to reproduce one as on the next page. Captain Alexander Smith took an immense delight in his villains. You cannot fail to perceive, if you read his book, that his only contempt was for a bungler in the art. Royalist to the heart's core of him, he expends his most loving labours upon the freebooters who displayed his own political bias, and there can be little doubt VOL. I. 2 | CAP2wIN ADEXAMDER SaI7E' mised to steal for you,'' The delighted recipient thought how exquisitely his customer's kindness and humour blended. There is nothing neater in all the history of highwaymen than this anecdote, twinkling brightly amid the matter-of-fact records of a degenerate day. There is plentiful evidence that when Captain Alexander Smith in 1719-20 wrote and published his work upon the highwaymen and other evil- doers, he based his book upon the many chap- books and broadsides then in existence Many of them may even now be found by those who do not mind searching for them, but whether they will repay the trouble is quite another matter. Ele includes in his gallery even Robin Hood and Sir John Falstaff; and, not concerned to point out their legendary or merely literary character, gives an exact (though necessarily not a truthful) biograpby of each. Several editions of Smith exist; some in three, others in two volumes, The title-pages vary largely, but all are estremely lengthy, and so curious that it is well worth while to reproduce one as on the next page- Captain Alexander Smith took an immense delight in his villains. You cannot fail to per- ceive, if you read his book, that his only contempt was for a bungler in the art. Royalist to the heart's core of him, he expends his most loving labours upon the freebooters who displayed his '*3 P9%eal bias, 4nd tere ow be lte 4oubt |
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| 12 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN A Compleat HISTORY of the LIVES AND ROBBERIES of the most Notorious Highway-Men, Foot-Pads, Shop-Lifts, and Cheats of both Sexes, in and about London and Westminster, and all Parts of Great Britain, for above an Hundred Years past, continu'd to the present Time. Wherein their most Secret and Barbarous Murders, Unparalell'd Robberies, Notorious Thefts, and Unheard of Cheats, are set in a true Light, and Expos'd to publick View, for the common Benefit of Mankind. To which is prefix'd, The Thieves New Canting-Dictionary, Explaining the most mysterious Words, New Terms, Significant Phrases, and Proper Idioms, used at this present Time by our Modern Thieves. By Capt. ALEX. SMITH. The Fifth Edition (adorn'd with Cuts) with the Addition of near Two Hundred Robberies lately committed. In Two Volumes. London. Printed for Sam. Briscoe, and sold by A. Dodd at the Peacock without Temple-Bar, 1719. | ta AADREO URS HITT 7EE EIGERAYaEN A Compleat HISTOEY of the TIVES AND ROBBERIES of the moft Notorious Highway-Men, Foot-Pads, Shop-Lifts, and Cheats of both Sexes, in and about London and IVe/tnin/ter, and all Parts of Great britain,for above an Hundred Years paft, continu'd to the prefent Time. Wherein their moft Secret and Barbarous Mur- ders, Unparalell'd Robberies, Notorious Thefts, and Unheard of Cheats, are fet in a true Light, and Expos'd to publick View, for the common Benefit of Mankind. T'o which is prefis'd, TThe Thieves New Canting- JDictionary, Explaining the moft myfterious Words, New Terms, Significant Phrafes, and Pro- per Idioms, afed at this prefent Time by our Moden Thieves, By Capt, ATLEX. SMITH. The Fifth Edition (adorn'd with Cuts) with the Addi- tion of near Two Hundred Robberies lately committed. In Two Volumes. London. Printed for Sam. Brifcoe, and fold by A. Dodd at the Peacock without Temple-Bar, 1719. |
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| CAPTAIN ALEXANDER SMITH 13 that, while they did the robbing, it is the eloquence of Smith himself that supplies the embittered harangues, which the victims of Captain Hind, of Stafford, and of many another in his pages are supposed to endure. Nay, Smith enriches the career of many a Royalist highwayman with incidents those gallant fellows were entire strangers to; and himself robs (in the mere narration of pen, ink, and the printed page) prominent Puritans, who in actual life were assuredly never "held up" on the road. The convention of disapproval of his heroes' villainies sits very lightly upon Alexander Smith. He pays that merest homage to virtue, but then starts rollicking through the biographies of the highwaymen with an unmistakable gusto. His table of comparative sinfulness is an oddity in itself. He says, ".... we have given them Precedency according as they excelled one another in Villainy. In their general Character the Reader will find the most unaccountable Relations of irregular Actions as ever were heard; penn'd all from their own Mouths, not borrow'd from the Account given of Malefactors by any of the Ordinaries of Newgate...." He then continues, not very convincingly: "If we have here and there brought in some of these wicked Offenders venting a prophane Oath or curse, which is dash'd" (much is left to the imagination in a ——) "it is to paint them in their proper Colours; whose Words are always so odious, detestable, and foul, that some (as | CAPTAIN ALEAAMDER SAITE 3 that, while they did the robbing, it is the eloquence of Smith himself that supplies the em- bittered harangues, which the victims of Captain Eind, of Stafford, and of many another in his pages are supposed to endure, Nay, Smith en- riches the career of many a Royalist highwayman with incidents those gallant fellows were entire strangers to ; and himself robs (in the mere narration of pen, ink, and the printed page) prominent Puritans, who in actual life were assuredly never ''held up '' on the road. The convention of disapproval of his heroes' villainies sits very lightly upon Alexander Smith. Ee pays that merest homage to virtue, but then starts rollicking through the biographies of the highwaymen with an unmistakable gusto. Eis table of comparative sinfulness is an oddity in itself. He says, '' . . . we have given them Precedency according as they excelled one an- other in Villainy. In their general Character the Reader will find the moft unaccountable elations of irregular Actions as ever were heard; penn'd all from their own Mouths, not borrow'd from the Account given of Malefactors by any of the Ordinaries of Newgate. . . Ee then continues, not very convincingly : '' f we have here and there brought in some of these wicked Offenders venting a prophane Oath or curle, which is dash'd '' (much is left to the imagination in a -) ''it is to paint them in their proper Colours; whofe Words are always fo odious, detestable, and foul, that some (as |
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| 14 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN little acquainted with a God as they) would be apt to conclude that Nature spoil'd them in the Making, by setting their Mouths at the wrong end of their Bodies." Sir John Falstaff strangely comes first in this Valhalla. Who ever, loving the Shakespearian Falstaff, would have expected him to be exalted on this particularly bad eminence, over the heads of the several atrocious murderers Smith does not scruple to include in his pages? Johnson, Smith's copyist of twenty years later, like his precursor, boggles at no marvellous tale. They knew the temper of their times and worked in accord with it. Why be a critic in an uncritical age? There were poets before Homer, but by all accounts they were a sorry lot; and there were biographers of highwaymen before Alexander Smith, but for the most part their works are deadly dull. They had excellent materials, but did not know how to handle them. Shakespeare alone, in the scenes on Gad's Hill with Falstaff and Prince Hal and the men in buckram, knew the way, and all London laughed with him at those merry adventures; but such tiresome productions as the Life and Death of Gamaliel Ratsey, published in 1605, continued to appear. That little work is typical. Gamaliel Ratsey—whether a real or imaginary person I dare not say—appears by this publication to have been "a famous thiefe in England, executed at Bedford the 26 of March last past, 1605." Probably there | 4 /ALAEOURS IVI2 7EE EIGB RA YAIEN little acquainted with a God as they) would be apt to conclude that Nature fpoil'd them in the Mnking, by setting their Mouths at the wrong end of their Bodies,'' Sir John Falstaff strangely comes first in this Vlhalla. Who ever, loving the Shakespearian Falstaff, would have expected him to be exalted on this particularly bad eminence, over the heads of the several atrocious murderers Smith does not scruple to include in his pages ? Jobnson, Smith's copyist of twenty years later, like his precursor, boggles at no marvellous tale. They knew the temper of their times and worked in accord with it. Why be a critic in an uncritical age ? TThere were poets before Eomer, but by all accounts they were a sorry lot ; and there were , biographers of highwaymen before Alesander Smith, but for the most part their works are deadly dull, They had excellent materials, but did not know how to handle them. Shakespeare alone, in the scenes on Gad's Ilill with Falstaff and Prince Bal and the men in buckram, knew the way, and all London laughed with him at those merry adventures ; but such tiresome pro- ductions as the Life and Death of Ganyaliel Ratsey, published in 1605, continued to appeor. That little work is typical. Gamaliel Ratsey -whether a real or imaginary person lI dare not say-appears by this publication to have been ''a famous thiefe in IEngland, executed at Bedford the 26 of March last past, 1605.'' Probably there |
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| GAMALIEL RATSEY I5 was a Gamaliel Ratsey, highwayman, hanged then and there; but the adventures related of him are almost certainly inventions: well invented, but told without the slightest scintilla of literary merit. Yet this ragbag stuff has figured in reprints of "old English literature." So much the worse, then, for Old English literature, if this be representative; or, more likely so much the worse for the critical ability of those who considered it worth disinterring on those grounds. It is not "literature," and not representative of what old England could then produce in literature; but it is valuable as one of the origins of the highwaymen legends. Gamaliel Ratsey, according to this publication, was born at Market Deeping, in Lincolnshire, the son of a respected local gentleman, one Richard Ratsey, who held a position in the service of a greater gentleman: an esquire, probably, in the train of a nobleman. His only son, Gamaliel, received a good education, but was of a roving disposition and went over to Ireland and joined the army of occupation there, under the Earl of Essex. He so distinguished himself, early in those operations, that he was made sergeant. Soon after the death of Queen Elizabeth, he returned to England with the Earl of Devonshire, and went home to Market Deeping. At the not far distant town of Spalding he began his filching career, by making use of the good terms he enjoyed with the landlady of an inn to steal a bag containing £40 in gold, which had been | G4ALIEL AA7SEY was a Gamaliel Ratsey, highwayman, banged then and there ; but the adventures related of him are almost certainly inventions : well invented, but told without the slightest scintilla of literary merit. Yet this ragbag stuff has figured in reprints of ''old English literature,'' So much the worse, then, for Old English literature, if this be representative ; or, more likely so much the worse for the critical ability of those who considered it worth disinterring on those grounds. It is not '' literature,'' and not representative of what old England could then produce in litera- ture; but it is valuable as one of the origins of the highwaymen legends. Gamaliel Ratsey, according to this publication, was born at Market Deeping, in Lincolnshire, the son of a respected local gentleman, one Richard Iatsey, who held a position in the service of a greater gentleman : an esquire, probably, in the train of a nobleman. Bis only son, Gamaliel, received a good education, but was of a roving disposition and went over to Ireland and joined the army of occupation there, under the Earl of Esses. He so distinguished himself, early in those operations, that he was made sergeant, Soon after the death of Queen Elizabeth, he returned to England with the Earl of Devonshire, and went home to Market Deeping. At the not far distant town of Spalding he began his filching career, by making use of the good terms he enjoyed with the landlady of an inn to steal a bwg containing 440 in gold, which had been |
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| 16 HALF-HOURS WITH HIGHWAYMEN entrusted to her keeping by a farmer attending the market. To convince Ratsey how trusted a person she was, she foolishly showed where she had placed the bag; and as soon as her back was turned he had taken it from the cupboard where it lay, and made off. When the farmer returned and wanted his money, there was the very deuce to pay. He and the landlady went off to the nearest justice and swore an information against Gamaliel, who was arrested and thrown into prison, but not before he had found time to return home and bury the bag in the garden. In confidence he told his mother where it was hid, his mother told his sister, his sister told her husband, her husband told his friends, and so at last the confession reached the ears of the justices. Gamaliel would undoubtedly have been hanged on that occasion, only he broke prison and escaped, clad only in his shirt. His further adventures with Snell and Shorthose, two companions of like inclination, are in themselves amusing when reduced to less stilted language than that of the Life. Curiously enough, one of these incidents is concerned with the robbing of an actor, whom Ratsey bids deliver his money first, and a scene from Hamlet afterwards. So it was not from any want of acquaintance with the best models that the unnamed author of Ratsey's life failed to put life into his narrative. The incident is treated in as dead and wooden a manner as the rest. A Cambridge scholar, robbed in similar manner, | 6 IALAEOURS HIT THE BIGERAYMEN entrusted to her keeping by a farmer attending the market. To convince Ratsey how trusted a person she was, she foolishly showed where she had placed the bag ; and as soon as her back was turned he had taken it from the cupboard where it lay, and made off. When .the farmer returned and wanted his money, there was the very deuce to pay. He and the landlady went off to the nearest justice and swore an information against Gamaliel, who was arrested and thrown into prison, but not before he had found time to return home and bury the bag in the garden, In confidence he told his mother where it was hid, his mother told his sister, his sister told her husband, her husband told his friends, and so at last the confession reached the ears of the justices. Gamaliel would undoubtedly have been hanged on that occasion, only he broke prison and escaped, clad only in his shirt. Eis further adventures with Snell and Shorthose, two companions of like inclination, are in themselves amusing when reduced to less stilted language than that of the Life. Curiously enough, one of these incidents is concerned with the robbing of an actor, whom Ratsey bids deliver his money first, and a scene from. ITanylet after- wards, So it was not from any want of acquaint- ance with the best models that the unnamed author of Ratsey's life failed to put life into his narrative. The incident is treated in as dead and wooden a manner as the rest. A Cambridge scholar, robbbed in similar manner, |
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| "THOMAS DUN" 17 was bidden deliver a learned thesis. We find almost exactly parallel stories in Smith and Johnson. In those pages it is Sir Josselin (? Joscelin) Denville and his numerous band of robbers, who, meeting a Benedictine monk in a wood, make him preach a sermon in praise of thieving. Captain Dudley, a hundred years or so later, is represented demanding a sermon from a clergyman. More shadowy even than Robin Hood, is "Thomas Dun." We may be in some reasonable doubt as to the validity of many incidents and biographies in the pages of Smith and Johnson, but there is no possible doubt whatever that the "Life of Thomas Dun" is what one of our own eighteenth-century highwaymen and cutpurses would have called a "flam." There was never a Thomas Dun, highwayman, bandit, and murderer, as depicted in those classic pages; but the fact that he was a myth does not prevent those painstaking authors from presenting us with a very exact narrative of his deeds. The curious "moral reflection" prefaced to Thomas Dun's entirely apocryphal adventures is itself worth reproducing. It says: "A man who is not forced from necessity or a desire of pleasure to become dishonest, but follows his natural dispositions in robbing and maltreating others, will generally be found to be destitute of every humane and generous principle. So will it be found with this character—a person of mean extraction—who was born in Bedfordshire, | ' 7EOA/AS Dr was bidden deliver a learned thesis, We find almost exactly parallel stories in Smith and Johnson. In those pages it is Sir Josselin (F Joscelin) Denville and his numerous band of robbers, who, meeting a Benedictine monk in a wood, make him preach a sermon in praise of thieving. Captain Dudley, a hundred years or so later, is represented demanding a sermon from. a clergyman. More shadowy even than Robin Bood, is ''Thomas JDun.'' We may be in some reasonable doubt as to the validity of many incidents and biographies in the pages of Smith and Johnson, but there is no possible doubt whatever that the ''TLife of Thomas Dun '' is what one of our own eighteenth-century highwaymen and cutpurses would have called a '' flam.'' There was never a Thomas Dun, highwayman, bandit, and murderer, as depicted in those classic pages; but the fact that he was a myth does not prevent those painstaking authors from presenting us with a very exact narrative of his deeds. The curious '' moral reflection '' prefaced to Thomas JDun's entirely apocryphal adventures is itself worth reproducing. lIt says : '' A man who is not forced from necessity or a desire of pleasure to become dishonest, but follows his natural dispositions in robbing and maltreating others, will generally be found to be destitute of every humane and generous principle. So will it be found with this character-a person of mean extraction-who was born in lßedfordshire, |
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| 18 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN and who, even in childhood, was noted for his pilfering propensity and the cruelty of his disposition." He lived, it seems, in the time of Henry the First, "and so many were his atrocities," writes Johnson, "that we can only find limits for the recital of a few." The limits were perhaps more accurately determined by Johnson's own powers of invention. Johnson did not, of course, invent Thomas Dun. He is the child of the ages. Equally with Robin Hood, every generation, until the decay of folklore, added some new touch to him, and Johnson did but reduce him to print, add a little more, and shape him out of the somewhat formless but threatening figure he presented. There is this much basis for him: that, on the site of the town of Dunstable, and for some distance along the Holyhead Road in that direction, there extended, from Saxon times until the reign of Henry the First, a dense thicket of scrub woods, overgrowing the ancient ruins of the Roman station of Durocobrivæ. From the time of the Norman conquest the neighbourhood had been infested with robbers, and it was to drive them out and establish some sort of order that the king had clearings made in the woods that afforded such safe harbourage for outlaws. Under Royal encouragement a new town was founded, and in 1131 given, with the rights of market, to a priory that had been founded in the meanwhile. The King himself had a residence at "Dunstaplia," | 8 IADREOURS I7E 7EE ETGEHAYAEN and who, even in childhood, was noted for his pilfering propensity and the cruelty of his dis- position.'' Ee lived, it seems, in the time of Benry the First, '' and so many were his atrocities,'' writes Johnson, ''that we can only find limits for the recital of a few,'' The limits were perhaps more accurately determined by Jolhnson's own powers of invention. Johnson did not, of course, invent Thomas JDun. Ee is the child of the ages. JEqually with Eobin Eood, every generation, until the decay of folklore, added some new touch to him, and Johnson did but reduce him to print, add a little Tmore, and shape him out of the somewhat formless but threatening figure he presented. There is this much basis for him : that, on the site of the town of Dunstable, and for some distance along the Eolyhead Road in that direc- tion, there extended, from Saxon times until the reign of Henry the First, a dense thicket of scrub woods, overgrowing the ancient ruins of the Roman station of Durocobrira. From the time of the Norman conquest the neighbourhood had been infested with robbers, and it was to drive them out and establish some sort of order that the king had clearings made in the woods that afforded such safe harbourage for outlaws. Under Royal encouragement a new town was founded, and in 1131'given, with the rights of market, to a priory that had been founded in the meanwhile. The IEing himself had a residence at ''Dunstaplia,'' |
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| DUN I9 as the town was named, i.e. the "hill-staple" or market, and his successors were often there. The wool market was the most important at Dunstable; the monks long maintaining great flocks of sheep on the adjacent downs. The robbers became only a memory, but a memory that never faded. It merely took on another form, and in the course of time the name of the town itself was twisted into an allusion to them and to their leader. It needed the collusion of gross ignorance and wild legend to effect so much, but the thing was done; and for centuries Dunstable was, and perhaps even now is, locally said to owe its name to "Dun's Stable," a hollow in the chalk downs, pointed out as having been the place where "Dun," the entirely imaginary leader of the outlaws, stabled his horse. If you doubt this there is the town seal to convince the sceptical, showing as it does what is said to be a horseshoe (a shoe of Dun's horse!), but is really intended for a staple or hasp. The legendary Dun was a kind of bogey to the children of the neighbourhood, and in Johnson's pages is a most blood-thirsty creature. There we read that his first exploit was on the highway to Bedford, where he met a waggon full of corn, going to market, drawn by a fine team of horses. He accosted the waggoner, and in the midst of conversation stabbed him to the heart with a dagger. He buried the body, and drove the waggon off to the town, where he sold the corn and the waggon as well, and then disappeared! VOL. 1. 3 | D0N as the town was named, i.e, the ''hill-staple '' or market, and his successors were often there. The wool market was the most important at' Dunstable ; the monks long maintaining great flocks of sheep on the adjacent downs, The robbers became only a memory, but a memory that never faded. It merely took on another form, and in the course of time the name of the town itself was twisted into an allusion to them and to their leader. It needed the col- lusion of gross ignorance and wild legend to effect so much, but the thing was done; and for cen- turies lDunstable was, and perhaps even now is, locally said to owe its name to ''Dun's Stable,'' a hollow in the chalk downs, pointed out as having been the place where '' Dun,'' the entirely ima- ginary leader of the outlaws, stabled his horse. If you doubt this there is the town seal to con- vince the sceptical, showing as it does what is said to be a horseshoe (a shoe of Dun's horse !), but is really intended for a staple or hasp. The legendary Dun was a kind of bogey to the children of the neighbourhood, and in John- son's pages is a most bloodthirsty creature. There we read that his first exploit was on the highway to Bedford, where he met a waggon full of corn, going to market, drawn by a fine team of horses, He accosted the waggoner, and in the midst of conversation stabbed him to the heart with a dagger. Ie buried the body, and drove the Waggon off to the town, whhere he sold the corn and the waggon as well, and then disappeared ! |
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| 20 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN Dun had a great animosity to lawyers (or, rather, the authors of the legends worked into them their own dislike of the legal profession, and it is curious to note how this runs, like a thread, throughout all the fabric of highwaymen stories), and, hearing that some were to dine at a certain inn at Bedford, went hurriedly into the house about an hour before the appointed time, and desired the landlord to hasten with the dinner, and to provide for ten or twelve. The company soon arrived, and while the lawyers thought Dun a servant of the inn, the innkeeper thought him an attendant of the lawyers. He bustled about, and on the bill being called for, collected the amount, and walked off with it. The company, tired of waiting for him to return with their change, rang the bell for it, and then discovered him to be an impostor. And the hats and cloaks and the silver spoons had gone too. Dun became such a terror, that the sheriff of Bedford assembled a considerable force to attack him and his band. But Dun, finding his own men to equal, if not actually to outnumber, those sent against him, assumed the offensive, and, furiously attacking the sheriff's expedition, routed it and took eleven prisoners, whom he hanged upon trees in the woods, by way of a hint how rash a thing it was to interfere with him. Removing the prisoners' clothing, they dressed themselves in it, and forming a plan to rob the castle of a neighbouring nobleman, appeared before it in the uniform of the sheriff's men and | ao IADREOUAS II7E 7EE BIGEIA YAEN Dun had a great animosity to lawyers (or, rather, the authors of the legends worked into them their own dislike of the legal profession, and it is curious to note how this runs, like a thread, throughout all the fabric of highwaymen stories), and, hearing that some were to dine at a certain inn at Bedford, went hurriedly into the house about an hour before the appointed time, and desired the landlord to hasten with the dinner, and to provide for ten or twelve, The company soon arrived, and while the lawyers thought lDun a servant of the inn, the innkeeper thought him an attendant of the lawyers, Ee bustled about, and on the bill being called for, collected the amount, and walked off with it. The companY, tired of waiting for him to return with their change, rang the bell for it, and then discovered him to be an impostor. And the hats and cloaks and the silver spoons had gone too. Dun became such a terror, that the sheriff of Bedford assembled a considerable force to attack him and his band. But Dun, finding his own men to equal, if not actually to outnumber, those sent against him, assumed the offensive, and, furiously attacking the sheriff's expedition, routed it and took eleven prisoners, whom he hanged upon trees in the woods, by way of a hint how rash a thing it was to interfere with him. lte- moving the prisoners' clothing, they dressed themselves in it, and forming a plan to rob the castle of a neighbouring nobleman, appeared before it in the uniform of the sheriff's men and |
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| DUN 2I demanded admission, "to search for Dun." Failing to find him, they requested all the keys of the place, to make a narrower search, and so looted many costly articles. Upon a complaint being lodged with the sheriff, the ruse was belatedly discovered. It would be wearisome to follow all the fables that tell of Dun's twenty years' bloodstained progress to the scaffold. There is this much to be said in commendation of the popular legends of bandits: that when they are shown to be really bad, without redeeming traits, the legends duly see to it that justice is satisfied. And so with Dun, who is made to end disastrously at Bedford, even without the advantage of a formal trial. "When two executioners approached him he warned them of their danger if they should lay hands on him," and when they insisted upon doing so he struggled with them so successfully that he flung them nine times upon the scaffold, before his strength gave way. The crowds who gloated horribly over executions at Tyburn and elsewhere never had so great a treat as pictured in this fictitious scene: but this was merely the appetiser, the anchovies, so to speak, before the more solid course. Better was to follow. The original executioners having been put out of action by Dun's violence, reinforcements were brought to bear, and did their business very effectually. "His hands were first chopped off at the wrist; then his arms at the elbows; next, about an inch from the shoulders; his feet below | DUN demanded admission, '' to search for Dun,'' Fail- ing to find him, they requested all the keys of the place, to make a narrower search, and so looted many costly articles. Upon a complaint being lodged with the sheriff, the ruse was belatedly discovered. It would be wearisome to follow all the fables that tell of Dun's twenty years' bloodstained progress to the scaffold. There is this much to be said in commendation of the popular legends of bandits : that when they are shown to be really bad, without redeeming traits, the legends duly see to it that justice is satisfied. And so with Dun, who is made to end disastrously at Bedford, even without the advantage of a formal trial. When two executioners approached him he warned them of their danger if they should lay hands on him,'' and when they insisted upon doing so he struggled with them so successfully that he flung them nine times upon the scaffold, before his strength gave way, The crowds who gloated horribly over executions at Tyburn and elsewhere never had so great a treat as pictured in this fictitious scene : but this was merely the appetiser, the anchovies, so to speak, before the more solid course. Better was to follow. The original executioners having been put out of action by lDun's violence, reinforcements were brought to bear, and did their business very effectually. ''Eis hands were first chopped off at the wrist ; then his arms at the elbows; next, about an inch from the shoulders; his feet below |
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| 22 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN he ankles; his legs at the knees; and his thighs about five inches from the trunk. The horrible scene was then concluded by severing his head from the body, and consuming it to ashes. The other portions were set up in the principal places of Bedfordshire." This by no means pretty ending, when told to children, terrified them more than all the terrific deeds attributed to Dun himself, and often woke them at night, screaming. | aa IAEOURS II2E 2DE IIGBIAYAEN the ankles ; his legs at the knecs; and his thighs about five inches from the trunk, The horrible scene was then concluded by severing his head from the body, and consuming it to ashes. The other portions were set up in the principal places of Bedfordshire.'' This by no means pretty ending, when tol to children, terrified them more than all the terrific deeds attributed to lD)un himself, and often woke them at night, screaming. |
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| CHAPTER II ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN Bold Robin Hood Was a forester good As ever stepped in The merry greenwood. The mythical Thomas Dun's redeeming qualities, supposing him, indeed, to have possessed any, are not set forth in those legends of him. He is a blackguard shape; while the equally legendary Robin Hood is one of the brightest figures of romance. Robin Hood is a poor man's hero, and has been, for over seven centuries, to the peasantry of England something of what King Arthur was to the nobles and the aristocracy. While Arthur was, and is some day again to be, the national hero in the larger issues of war and conquest, Robin remains the lion-hearted outlaw; warring from his boskage in the greenwood of Sherwood Forest, or Barnsdale, against the rich oppressors of the people, whether they be the nobles or the fat ecclesiastics of mediæval satire. Many industrious writers have sought to reduce the Robin Hood myths to a connected whole, and to trace their origin, but the task has 23 | CHAPTER II ROBIN EOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN Bold Robin Bood HFas a forester good s ever steppped in 7e merry greenwood. TTnms mythical Thomas Dun's redeeming qualities, supposing him, indeed, to have possessed any, are not set forth in those legends of him. Be is a blackguard shape; while the equally legendary Robin Bood is one of the brightest figures of romance. Eobin Eood is a poor man's hero, and has been, for over seven centuries, to the peasantry of England something of what ing Arthur was to the nobles and the aristocracy. While Arthur was, and is some day again to be, the national hero in the larger issues of war and conquest, Robin remains the lion-hearted outlnw ; warring from his boskage in the greenwood of Sherwood Forest, or Barnsdale, against the rich oppressors of the people, whether they be the nobles or the fat ecclesiastics of mediaval satire. Many industrious writers have sought to reduce the Eobin Hood myths to a connected whole, and to trace their origin, but the task has a3 |
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| 24 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN proved hopeless. He is as pervasive as the winds, and came whence no one knows, but may be traced back to the reign of Edward the Second, when he was already fully established as a ballad hero. Ritson, who collected and edited the ancient literature referring to him, is of opinion that he was a real person, Robert Fitzooth, and was born at Locksley, in Nottinghamshire, in 1160. But no evidence settles that point, and it is abundantly possible that he was really evolved from dim memories of Hereward the Wake, the Saxon hero, who long withstood William the Norman in the fens of Ely. In course of time his championship of a conquered nation was lost sight of, and merged into the endearing character of an English yeoman, outlawed for debt, taking refuge with others of his kin in the forest, whence they levied toll upon the oppressor, and, as they themselves were outlawed, respected no law, save that of the greenwood, where the best man was he who could draw the stoutest bow and shoot the straightest; who could make the best play with that truly English weapon, the quarter-staff, or deal the mightiest blow with the fist. The whole cycle of Robin Hood legend is delightfully and most characteristically English, instinct with the purest and most passionate love of the countryside, and nerved with the championship of manhood's rights and with the fiercest hatred of the law and of the ruling classes in days when laws were the repressive measures instituted by the wealthy for the purpose of denying simple | a4 ALAZOURS IITD 2NE IIGEIA YMEA proved hopeless. Ee is as pervasive as the winds, and came whence no one knows, but may be traced back to the reign of Edward the Second, when he was already fully established as a ballad hero. Iitson, who collected and edited the ancient literature referring to him, is of opinion that he was a real person, Eobert Fitzooth, and was born at Locksley, in Nottinghamshire, in 1160. But no evidence settles that point, and it is abundantly possible that he was really evolved from dim. memories of Eereward the Wnke, the Saxon hero, who long withstood William the Norman in the fens of Ely. In course of time his championship of a conquered nation was lost sight of, and merged into the endearing character of an English yeoman, outlawed for debt, taking refuge with others of his kin in the forest, whence they levied toll upon the oppressor, and, as they themselves were outlawed, respected no law, save that of the greenwood, where the best man was he who could draw the stoutest bow and shoot the straightest; who could make the best play with that truly JEnglish weapon, the quarter-staff, or deal the mightiest blow with the fist. The whole cycle of Bobin Eood legend is delightfully and most characteristically Englisl, instinct with the purest and most passionate love of the countryside, and nerved with the champion- ship of manhood's rights and with the fiercest hatred of the law and of the ruling classes in days when laws were the repressive measures instituted by the wealthy for the purpose of denying simple |
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| ROBIN HOOD 25 justice to the poor. The hatred of authority and the armed resistance to it, that are the leading features of Robin Hood legend, are no mere criminal traits, but violent protests (the only kind of protest then possible) against the bloody forest laws of the Norman and Plantagenet times, and the system by which the peasantry were serfs, with no more social rights than the negroes enjoyed before their emancipation in 1833. Robin Hood legend was for centuries the expression of what might now be styled Liberal, or even Radical, or Socialist opinion, but it has an innate poetry and chivalry which those modern schools of thought conspicuously lack; and indeed, as personal liberty broadened, so did the legends of this splendid figure of romance become blunted and vulgarised in the countryside, until he is made interchangeable with the highwaymen who had only their own pockets to fill and no cause to represent. How popular and how astonishingly widespread was the story of Robin Hood, we may readily guess from the many places or natural objects named after him. "Robin Hood's Butts" on the racecourse near Onibury, a mile and a half from Ludlow, are still pointed out. They are in the nature of sepulchral barrows. From there, says legend, Robin Hood shot an arrow that sped the mile and a half to Ludlow church, and fixed itself on the apex of the gable of the north transept! An arrow is certainly there, but Robin never shot it. It is, in fact, an iron likeness of an arrow, | AOBIN EOOD justice to the poor. The hatred of authority and the armed resistance to it, that are the leading features of Robin Hood legend, are no mere criminal traits, but violent protests (the only kind of protest then possible) against the bloody forest laws of the Norman and lantagenet times, and the system by which the peasantry were serfs, with no more social rights than the negroes enjoyed before their emancipation in 1833. obin Hood legend was for centuries the expression of what might now be styled Liberal, or even Radical, or Socialist opinion, but it has an innate poetry and chivalry which those modern schools of thought conspicuously lack; and indeed, as personal liberty broadened, so did the legends of this splendid figure of romance become blunted and vulgarised in the countryside, until he is made interchangeable with the highwaymen who had only their own pockets to fill and no cause to represent. Iow popular and how astonishingly widespread was the story of Robin Eood, we may readily guess from the many places or natural objects named after him. '' Bobin Eood's Butts '' on the racecourse near Onibury, a mile and a half from JLudlow, are still pointed out. They are in the nature of sepulchral barrows, From there, says legend, Robin Hood shot an arrow that sped the mile and a half to Ludlow church, and fised itself on the apex of the gable of the north transept! AAn arrow is certainly there, but Robin never shot it. It is, in fact, an iron likeness of an arrow, |
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| 26 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN and is the sign of the guild of Fletchers, or arrow-makers, who built the transept. There are other "Robin Hood's Butts" in the country: his "Cairns" on the Blackdown Hills in Somerset; "Robin Hood's Bay," on the Yorkshire Coast; his "Barrows," near Whitby; "Robin Hood's Tor," near Matlock; boundary-stones in Lincolnshire, known as "Robin Hood's Crosses"; a large logan-stone in Yorkshire, styled his "Penny Stone"; a fountain near Nottingham that figures as his; "Robin Hood's Well," between Doncaster and Wetherby; "Robin Hood's Stable," a cave in Nottinghamshire; a natural rock in Hopedale, Derbyshire, known as his "Chair"; his "Leap," a chasm at Chatsworth. A number of ancient oaks are "Robin Hood's," and legends of his exploits still cling to Skelbrooke Park, Plumpton Park, Cumberland, Feckenham Forest, Worcestershire, and the forests of Sherwood, Barnsdale, Needwood, and Inglewood. The forest of Inglewood, in Cumberland, is indeed associated with other outlaws as legendary as Robin himself or as that Irish figure of wild romance, "Rory o' the Hills." Andrew Bel, William of Cloudisdale, and Clym o' th' Clough are the great woodland triumvirate of the north. It would be a thankless office to dwell greatly upon the probability that Robin Hood, as an individual person, never existed, and that he was perhaps not even typical of the woodland outlaws of old, whose ideas and practices doubtless fell far short of the ballad Robin's ideals. It is much | a6 IALREOURS I7E 7EE EIGERAYMEN and is the sign of the guild of Eletchers, or arrow- makers, who built the transept. There are other '' Bobin Hood's Butts '' in the country : his '' Cairns '' on the Blackdown Eills in Somerset ; ''Robin Bood's Bay,'' on the York- shhire Coast ; his '' Barrows,'' near Whitby; ''Robin Eood's Tor,'' near Matlock ; boundary- stones in Lincolnshire, known as '' Robin Eood's Crosses '' ; a large logan-stone in Yorkshire, styled his ''Penny Stone '' ; a fountain near Nottingham that figures as his ; ''Robin Eood's Well,'' bbetwcen JDoncaster and Wetherby ; '' Robin Bood's Stable,'' a cave in Nottinghamshire ; a natural rock in Ilopedale, Derbyshire, known as his '' Chair ''; his ''Leap,'' a chasm at Chatsworth. A number of ancient oaks are '' Eobin Bood's,'' and legends of his cxploits still cling to Skelbrooke Park, PIumpton Park, Cumberland, Feckenham Forest, Worcestershire, and the forests of Sherwood, Barnsdale, Needwood, and Inglewood. The forest of Inglewood, in Cumberland, is indeed associated with other outlaws as legendary as Robin himself or as that Irish figure of wild romance, '' Bory o' the Eills.'' Andrew Bel, William of Cloudisdale, and Clym o' th' Clough are the great woodland triumvirate of the north. It would be a thankless office to dwell greatly upon the probability that Robin Iood, as an individual person, never existed, and that he was perhaps not even typical of the woodland outlaws of old, whose ideas and practices doubtless fell far short of the ballad Robin's ideals, It is much |
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| ROBIN HOOD 29 more pleasant to consider the romantic spirit that evolved him and gave him his exquisite setting of mossy glades and giant oaks, where the sun comes in golden-green shafts through the embowering foliage, and you hear the winding of the hunters' horns in chase of the deer. There is a springtime gladness in the old verses, of which this is typical: Whan shaws bene sheene and shroddes full fayre, And leaves both large and longe, Itt's merry walking in the fayre forrist To hear the small birdes songe. To se the dere draw to the dale, And leve the hillës hee, And shadow hem in the levës grene, Under the grene-wode tre. It is the springtime of the year and of the English nation that you glimpse in these lines; a picture of that larger rural England of possible adventure, and uncontaminated skies that is now a thing of the past. Nature is portrayed in these ballads with a vividness and certainty that more ambitious poets cannot match: The woodweele sang and wold not cease, Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood, In the greenwood where he lay. It is versification of the simplest and the most sincere kind. Robin Hood, real or imaginary character, has himself no criminal taint, but he is one of the VOL. I. 4 | AOBIN EOOD Ag more pleasant to consider the romantic spirit that evolved him and gave him his exquisite setting of mossy glades and giant oaks, where the sun comes in golden-green shafts through the em- bowering foliage, and you hear the winding of the hunters' horns in chase of the deer. There is a springtime gladness in the old verses, of which this is typical: Whan shaws bene sheene and shroddes full fayre, And leaves both large and longe, Itt's merry walking in the fayre forrist To hear the small birdes songe. To se the dere draw to the dale, And leve the hilles hee, And shadow hem in the leves grene, Under the grene-wode tre, It is the springtime of the year and of the English nation that you glimpse in these lines; a picture of that larger rural England of possible adventure, and uncontaminated skies that is now a thing of the past. Nature is portrayed in these ballads with a vividness and certainty that more ambitious poets cannot match : The woodweele sang and wold not cease, Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde, he wakened Robin IIood, In the greenwood where he lay, It is versification of the simplest and the most sincere kind. obin Bood, real or imaginary character, has himself no criminal taint, but he is one of the |
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| 30 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN at the stream becomes polluted with much vileness as it flows down the channel of time. A gradual vulgarising of the beautiful old story of the manly outlaws in Lincoln green, who went on foot and chased and shot the deer, and redressed wrongs in the leafy coverts, is sadly to be noted; and by the middle of the eighteenth century it became so obscured that it was possible for one of the booksellers of the time to foist upon an undiscriminating public an absurd production, in which Robin and the seventeenth-century Captain Hind figure as contemporaries. The poor threadbare rags of chivalry are thrown over the recreant shoulders of the highwaymen, but they suit them ill; and the fine clothes the highwaymen sometimes wore and the excellent horses they rode, do not hide from us their essential coarseness. When Langland's Vision of Piers Plowman was written, about 1362, Robin Hood long had been a popular figure; and in that wonderful descriptive poem we find, among those lifelike figures, Sloth, the priest, who confesses himself ignorant of hymns of the Saviour and the Virgin, and unable even to repeat his paternoster; "but," he says, "I can ryme of Robin Hode." That confession would scarce have pleased the real Robin, who was an exceedingly religious man. In the oldest ballad surviving of him, he is found lamenting that he has not been to mass for a fortnight, and he thereupon, at great risk, | 3o ADMEODRS WI78 7EE EIGERAYaEN original founts whence the stream of highwayman legend is fed. It does not, or should not, sully his fame, that the stream becomes polluted with much vileness as it flows down the channel of time. A gradual vulgarising of the beautiful old story of the manly outlaws in lLincoln green, who went on foot and chased and shot the deer, and redressed wrongs in the leafy coverts, is sadly to be noted ; and by the middle of the eighteenth century it became so obscured that it was possible for one of the booksellers of the time to foist upon an undiscriminating public an absurd production, in which Robin and the seventeenth-century Captain Eind figure as contemporaries. The poor thread- bare rags of chivalry are thrown over the recreant shoulders of the highwaymen, but they suit them ill; and the fine clothes the highwaymen some- times wore and the excellent horses they rode, do not hide from. us their essential coarseness. When JLangland's Fision qf' Piers Plowman was written, about 1362, Robin Bood long had been a popular figure ; and in that wonderful descriptive poem we find, among those lifelike figures, Sloth, thle priest, who confesses himself ignorant of hymns of the Saviour and the Virgin, and unable even to repeat his paternoster ; '' but,'' he says, ''I can ryme of Robin Bode.'' That confession would scarce have pleased the real Robin, who was an exceedingly religious man. In the oldest ballad surviving of him, he is found lamenting that he has not been to mass for a fortnight, and he thereupon, at great risk, |
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| ROBIN HOOD 31 goes to Nottingham town, to repair the omission. He especially venerated the Virgin, and is in one ballad found to be so extremely devoted to his religious duties as to have three masses daily, before dinner. At the same time, although he is found declaring to his band that no damage is to be done to any husbandman "that tylleth with his plough," nor to any good yeoman, nor to any knight or squire "that wolde be a good felowe," he delights in persecuting ecclesiastical dignitaries. A fat abbot, or a steward of a monastery, unlucky enough to fall in with him, has a weary time of it. The higher these personages, the worse the treatment meted out to them. "Ye shall then beat and bind," we find Robin directing his merry men; and as these ballads were but the essence of the public feeling of the age, it is quite evident that when at last Henry the Eighth made away with the monasteries, he must have had a very considerable and long-established force of popular sentiment entirely in accord with him. One of the chief exploits of Robin with the dignified clergy was the traditional meeting with the Bishop of Hereford, in Skelbrooke Park, where he was said to have made the Bishop dance round an oak, and then, after plundering him, to have left him bound securely to the tree. Variations of the story are met with in plenty in legends of other outlaws and highwaymen. That the Robin Hood legends impelled other | AOBIN EOOD goes to Nottingham town, to repair the omission. He especially venerated the Virgin, and is in one ballad found to be so extremely devoted to his religious duties as to have three masses daily, before dinner. At the same time, although he is found de- claring to his band that no damage is to be done to any husbandman '' that tylleth with his plough,'' nor to any good yeoman, nor to any knight or squire '' that wolde be a good felowe,'' he delights in persecuting ecclesiastical dignitaries. A fat abbot, or a steward of a monastery, unlucky enough to fall in with him, has a weary time of it. The higher these personages, the worse the treatment meted out to them. '' Ye shall then beat and bind,'' we find Robin directing his merry men ; and as these ballads were but the essence of the public feeling of the age, it is quite evident that when at last Benry the Eighth made away with the monasteries, he must have had a very considerable and long-established force of popular sentiment entirely in accord with him. One of the chief exploits of Robin with the dignified clergy was the traditional meeting with the Bishop of Hereford, in Skelbrooke Park, where he was said to have made the Bishop dance round an oak, and then, after plundering him, to have left him bound securely to the tree, Variations of the story are met with in plenty in legends of other outlaws and highway- That the Bobin Hood legends impelled other |
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| 32 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN romantic souls to take to the woodlands and be also Robin Hoods, in admiring imitation, seems sufficiently evident from old records, of which the Derbyshire petition to Parliament in 1439 is typical. The petitioners solicited help to procure the arrest of a certain Piers Venables and others who, it is stated, "wente into the wodes like as it hadde be Robyn-hode and his meyne." Nottingham was ever a town inimical to our Robin; probably because it was nearest to his haunts in Sherwood Forest. In the earliest ballad extant of his exploits, we learn how, going piously into the town for the feast of Pentecost, he met an old monk whom he had once robbed of £100. The monk "betrays" him, and to prevent his escape the town gates are closed. Robin, seeking to leave, is captured, after a desperate resistance, and thrown into prison; and the false-hearted monk sets out for London, to convey the welcome news to the King, who will be delighted to learn that the bold outlaw is at last laid by the heels. But Little John and Much waylay the monk, and kill him and his little page, and themselves, with the despatches, seek audience of the King, who sends a command by them to the Sheriff of Nottingham, ordering him to bring Robin Hood before him. Arriving at Nottingham, these bearers of the King's commands are received with due honours and elaborately entertained. Finally, after much feasting and drinking, and when the sheriff and his men are sunk in a drunken sleep, Little John | s IALAEOURS HI78 TEE EIGEIAYAEN romantic souls to take to the woodlands and be also Eobin Boods, in admiring imitation, seems sufficiently evident from old records, of which the Derbyshire petition to Parliament in 1439 is typical, The petitioners solicited help to pro- cure the arrest of a certain Piers Venables and others who, it is stated, '' wente into the wodes like as it hadde be Robyn-hode and his meyne.'' Nottingham was ever a town inimical to our obin ; probably because it was nearest to his haunts in Sherwood Forest. In the earliest ballad extant of his exploits, we learn how, going piously into the town for the feast of Pentecost, he met an old monk whom he had once robbed of E100. The monk '' betrays '' him, and to prevent his escape the town gates are closed. Iobin, seeking to leave, is captured, after a desperate resistance, and thrown into prison ; and the false-hearted Imonk sets out for lLondon, to convey the welcome news to the Eing, who will be delighted to learn that the bold outlaw is at last laid by the heels, But Little John and Much waylay the monk, and kill him and his little page, and themselves, with the despatches, seek audience of the Eing, who sends a command by them to the Sheriff off Nottingham, ordering him to bring Robin Iood before him. Arriving at Nottingham, these bearers of the Eing's commands are received with due honours and elaborately entertained. Finally, after much feasting and drinking, and when the sheriff and 'his men are sunk in a drunken sleep, Little John |
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| ROBIN HOOD 33 and Much steal their keys, kill the gaoler, and release Robin Hood. Then they return happily to the forest. The ballad ends by the pardon of Little John, in consideration of his fidelity to his chief. Another ballad tells of the adventure of Robin and the potter. Meeting an itinerant seller of earthenware pots, Robin challenges him to the usual test of who is best man, a fight with quarter-staff. On this occasion he meets his match and is badly beaten. But there was never such a hungry man for a fight as our hero, and he then suggested a combat with swords, in which he was also vanquished. Then he changes clothes with the man of pots, buys his stock, and goes to Nottingham, where he sells them at less than cost price and so makes a speedy clearance of all but five. These he gives to the sheriff's wife, who then invites him to dinner. At the dinner-table he hears of a trial of skill at archery to be decided that afternoon, and attends and surpasses all competitors. The sheriff asks him of whom he learned such marvellous archery. "Of Robin Hood," he answered; and then the sheriff expresses a wish to see the outlaw. The pretended potter then conducts him into the depths of the forest and there blows a single blast upon his horn. Immediately they are surrounded by Robin's own merry men, who compel the sheriff to leave his horse and other gear; glad enough to get away on any terms. Robin, however, courteously | AOBIN EOOD and Much steal their keys, kill the gaolcr, and release Robin Eood. Then they return happily to the forest. The ballad ends by the pardon of JLittle John, in consileration of his fidelity to his chief. Another ballad tells of the adventure of Bobin and the potter. Meeting an itinerant seller offf earthenware pots, Robin challenges him to the usual test of who is best man, a fight with quarter-stafff. On this occasion he meets his match and is badly beaten. But-th@\& wwas never such a hungry man for a fight as our hero, and he then suggested a combat with swords, in which he was also vanquished. Then he changes clothes with the man of pots, buys his stock, and goes to Nottingham, where he sells thiem at less than cost price and so makes a speedy clearancc of all but five. These he gives to the sheriff's wife, who then invites him to dinncr. At the dinner- table he hears of a trial of skill at archery to be decided that afternoon, and attends and surpasses all competitors, The sheriff asks him of whom he learned such marvcllous archery. '' Of Tobin Iood,'' he answered; and then the sherifff expresses a wish to see the outlaw. The pre- tended potter then conducts him into the depths of the forest and there blows a single blast upon his horn. Immediately they are surrounded by Robin's own merry men, who compel the sheriff to leave his horse and other gear; glad enough to get away on any terms. Robin, however, courteously |
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| 34 HALF-HOURS WITH THE HIGHWAYMEN sends the sheriff's wife a white palfrey that "ambles like the wind." Indeed, Robin was very much of a lady's man, and no outlaw worthy the name of forester was ever else. They were all squires of dames, and in this at least were equal, in theory at any rate, to the best "perfit gentil knight" that ever wore a lady's kerchief. Courtesy to beauty in distress was ever one of the chiefest salves with which bandits salved their self-respect. No sentence of outlawry could make them rue, if to that principle they held them true. Even an outlaw had his ideals: to play special providence, to succour the distressed, to punish the oppressor, and "never to lay hands on a woman, save in the way of kindness." There were, of course, many lapses from these altitudes of conduct, but the ideal long remained, and only seems to have greatly decayed in the eighteenth century. We have the historical instance of that adventure of the fugitive Queen of Henry the Sixth, lost in 1459 in the wilds of Staffordshire, after the disastrous battle of Blore Heath. Plying from that stricken field, on horseback, with her son, the youthful Prince Edward and one only retainer, the little party were surprised in the mountainous district of Axe Edge by a band of robbers, who seized their money, jewels, and every article of value. These savage men knew nothing of their rank, save that they were obviously people of quality. Then the rogues fell to | 34 AAALABOURS RI2E 2EE EIGEIAYEN sends the sheriff's wife a white palfrey that '' ambles like the wind.'' IIndeed, Robin was very much of a lady's man, and no outlaw worthy the name of forester was ever else, They were all squires of dames, and in this at least were equal, in theory at any rate, to the best '' perfit gentil knight '' that ever wore a lady's kerchief. Courtesy to beauty in distress was ever one of the chiefest salves with which bandits salved their self-respect. No sentence of outlawry could make them rue, if to that principle they held them true. Even an outlaw had his ideals : to play special providence, to succour the distressed, to punish the oppressor, and '' never to lay hands on a woman, save in the way of kindness,'' There were, of course, many lapses from these altitudes of conduct, but the ideal long remained, and only seems to have greatly decayed in the eighteenth century. We have the historical instance of that adventure of the fugitive Queen of Henry the Sisth, lost in 1459 in the wilds of Stafffordshire, after the disastrous battle of Blore Beath. Flying from that stricken field, on horseback, with her son, the youthful Prince Edward and one only retainer, the little party were surprised in the mountainous district of Axe Edge by a band of robbers, who seized their money, jewels, and every article of value. These savage men knew nothing of their rank, save that they were obviously people of quality. Then the rogues fell to |
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| ROBIN HOOD 37 quarrelling among themselves, as to the division of the spoil. Menaces were growled out, and swords drawn. Margaret of Anjou, the high-spirited Queen, seeing the bandits so engaged with each other, took her son by the arm and hurried with him into an adjacent wood. We hear no more of the solitary retainer. He seems to have left early. The Queen and her son had not gone far when they encountered another outlaw. With the simple frankness of a great despair, she threw herself and the young Prince upon his mercy. "Friend," said she, "I entrust to your loyalty the son of your King." What a generous-hearted bandit could do, he did. Taking them under his protection, he conducted them by secret and intricate ways into the comparative safety of the Lancastrian headquarters. But to resume our Robin. The fate of Guy of Gisborne shows how rash it was to attack our friend in Lincoln green, who was by no means so green as he looked. Guy had sworn to apprehend the outlaw, and roamed the forest in search of him, in a "capull hyde," which is said to mean a horse's skin. Guy found him at last, with disastrous results to himself, for Robin slew him and mangled his body with what is particularly described as an "Irish knife." He then clothed himself in the "capull hyde" and took his deceased enemy's horn, and went off to Barnsdale, where his men, unknown to himself, had been in combat with the 264907 | AOBIN EOOD quarrelling among themselves, as to the division of the spoil, Menaces were growled out, and swords drawn, Margaret of Anjou, the high- spirited QQueen, seeing the bandits so engaged with each other, took her son by the arm and hurried with him into an adjacent wood. We hear no more of the solitary retainer. He seems to have left early. The Queen and her son had not gone far when they encountered another outlaw. With the simple frankness of a great despair, she threw herself and the young Prince upon his mercy, ''1riend,'' said she, '' I entrust to your loyalty the son of your King.'' What a generous-hearted bandit could do, he did. Taking them under his protection, he con- ducted them by secret and intricate ways into the comparative safety of the Lancastrian head- quarters, But to resume our Robin, The fate of Guy of Gisborne shows how rash it was to attack our friend in JLincoln green, who was by no means so green as he looked. Guy had sworn to apprehend the outlaw, and roamed the forest in search of him, in a '' capull hyde,'' which is said to mean a horse's skin, Guy found him at last, with disas- trous results to himself, for Robin slewhim and man- gled his body with what is particularly described as an '' Irish knife,'' Ee then clothed hlimself in the '' capull hyde '' and took his deceased enemy's horn, and went off to Barnsdale, where his men, unknown to himself, had been in combat with the hP9 264Su |
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| Entered according to Act of Congress, in year 1892, by Richard L. Campbell, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. | Entered according to Act of Congress, in year 1892 by R1cHaRD L. CaSdPBELL, in the office of the Libraria1 of Congress, at Washington. |
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| PREFACE THE inducement to write this book was to supply, in a slight measure, the want of any particular history of British rule in West Florida. With that inducement, however, the effort would not have been made but for the sources of original information existing in the Archives of the Dominion of Canada, as well as others, pointed out to me by Dr. William Kingsford of Ottawa, author of the ‘History of Canada;’ to whom I take this occasion of making my acknowledgments. An account of British rule necessitated one of Spanish colonial annals, both before and after it. If any apology be necessary for the space devoted to the Creeks, it will be found in the considerations that for twenty years the body | PREFACE. TEE inducement to write this book was to supply, in a slight measure, the want of any particular history of British rule in West Florida, With that inducement, however, the effort would not have been made but for the sources of original informatio'1 existing in the Archives of the Dominion of Canada, as well as others, pointed out to me by Dr. William Kingsford of Ottawa, author of the 'History of Canada;' to hom I take this occasion of making my acknowledgments. \&n account of British rule necessitated one of opanish colonial annals, both before and after it. If any apology be necessary for the space devoted to the Creeks, it will be found in the eonsiderations that for twenty years the body |
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| 4 PREFACE of the nation was within the limits of British West Florida; that their relations with the British, formed during that period, influenced their conduct towards the United States until after the War of 1812; and above all, that the life of Alexander McGillivray forms a part of the history of West Florida, both under British and Spanish rule. The prominence given to Pensacola is due to its having been the capital of both British and Spanish West Florida, and therefore the centre of provincial influence. | PREFAcE. of the nation was within the limits of British West Florida ; that their relations with the British, formed during that period, influenced their conduct towards the United States until after the War of 1812; and above all, that the life of Alesander McGillivray forms a part of the history of West Florida, both under British and Spanish rule. The prominence given to Pensacola is due to its having been the capital of both British and Spanish West Florida, and therefore the centre of provincial influence. |
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| CHAPTER I. The Discovery of Pensacola Bay by Panfilo de Narvaez—The Visits of Maldonado, Captain of the Fleet of Hernando de Soto. On one of the early days of October, 1528, there could have been seen, coasting westward along and afterwards landing on the south shore of Santa Rosa Island, five small, rudely-constructed vessels, having for sails a grotesque patchwork of masculine under and over-wear. That fleet was the fruit of the first effort at naval construction within the present limits of the United States. It was built of yellow pine and caulked with palmetto fibre and pitch. Horses’ tails and manes furnished the cordage, as did their hides its water vessels. Its freightage consisted of two hundred and forty human bodies, wasted and worn by fatigue and exposure, and as many hearts heavy and racked with disappointment. It was commanded by His 9 | CHAPTER I. The Discovery of Pensacola Bay by Panfilo de Narvaez- The Visits of Maldonado, Captain of the Fleet of Hernando de Soto, OS oxE of the early days of October, 1528, there could have been seen, coasting westward along and afterwards landing on the south shore of Santa Rosa Island, five small, rudely- constructed vessels, having forsails a grotesque patchwork of masculine under and over-wear. That fleet was the fruit of the first effort at naval construction within the present limits of the United States. It was built of yellow pine and caulked with palmetto fibre and pitch. Horses' tails and manes furnished the cordage, as did their hides its water vessels. Its freight- age consisted of two hundred and forty human bodies, wasted and worn by fatigue and ex- posure, and as many hearts heavy and racked withdisappointment. It wascommanded by His |
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| 10 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF Excellency Panfilo de Narvaez, Captain-general and Adelantado of Florida, a tall, big-limbed, red-haired, one-eyed man, “with a voice deep and sonorous as though it came from a cavern.” These were the first white men to make footprints on the shores of Pensacola Bay and to look out upon its waters. Although they landed on the Island, there is no evidence that their vessels entered the harbor. Narvaez, an Hidalgo, born at Valladolid about 1480, was a man capable of conceiving and undertaking great enterprises, but too rash and ill-starred for their successful execution, possessing the ambition and avarice which impelled the Spanish adventurers to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico during the sixteenth century, with whom Indian life was but a trifling sacrifice for a pearl or an ounce of gold. Five years before his Florida expedition he had been appointed, with a large naval and land force under his command, by Velasquez, governor of Cuba, to supersede Cortez, the conqueror of Mexico, and to send him in chains to Havana, to answer charges of insubordination to the authority of Velasquez. But Cortez | 10 HISTORICAL sEETcHES OF Escellency Panfilo de Narvaez, Captain-general and Adelantado of Florida, a tall, big-limbed, red-haired, one-eyed man, ''with a voice deep and sonorous as though it camefrom a cavern,'' These were the first white men to make foot- prints on the shores of Pensacola Bay and to look out upon itswaters. Althoughthey landed on the Island, there is no evidence that their vessels entered the harbor. Narvaez, an Hidalgo, born atValladolid about 14S0, was a man capable of conceiving and undertaking great enterprises, but too rash and ill-starred for their successful execution, possess- ing the ambition and avarice which impelled the Spanish adventurers to the shores of the Gulf of Mesico during the eighteenth century, with whom Indian life was but a trifling sacrifice for a pearl or an ounce of gold. Five years before his Florida espedition he had been appointed, with a large naval and land force under his command, by Velasquez, governor of Cuba, to supersede Cortez, the conqueror of Mesico, and to send him in chains to Eavana, to answer charges of insubordina- tion to the authority of Velasquez, But Cortez |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA 11 was not the man to be thus superseded. Never did his genius for great enterprises make a more striking display than by the measures he adopted and executed in this emergency. By them he converted that threatening expedition into one of succor for himself, embracing every supply, soldiers included, he required to complete his conquests. Of this great achievement the defeat of the incompetent Narvaez was only an incident. No labored comparison of conqueror and vanquished could present a more striking contrast between them than that suggested by their first interview. “Esteem it,” said Narvaez, “great good fortune that you have taken me captive.” “It is the least of the things I have done in Mexico,” replied Cortez, a sarcasm aimed at the incapacity of Narvaez, apart from the gains of the victor. The fruits of the expedition to Narvaez were the loss of his left eye, shackles, imprisonment, banishment, and the humiliation of kneeling to his conqueror and attempting to kiss his hand. To the Aztec the result was the introduction of a scourge that no surrender could placate, no | coLONIAL FLORIDA. 11 was not the man to be thus superseded. Never did his geniuus for great enterprises make a more striking display than by themeasures he adopted and executed in this emergency, By them he converted that threatening expedition into one of succor for himself, embracing every supply, soldiers included, he required to complete his conquests, Of this great achievement the de- feat of the incompetent Narvaez was only an incident. No labored comparison of conqueror and vanquished could present a more striking con- trast between them than that suggested by their firstinterview. ''Esteem it,''said Narvaez, ''great good fortune that you have taken me captive,'' ''It is the least of the things I have done in Mesico,'' replied Cortez, a sarcasm aimed at the incapacity of Narvaez, apart from the gains of the victor. The fruits of the expedition to Narvaez were the loss of his left eye, shackles, imprisonment, banishment, and the humiliation of kneeling to his conqueror and attempting to kiss his hand. To the Aztec the result was the introduction of a scourge that no surrender could placate, no |
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| 12 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF submission, however absolute and abject, could stay, and, therefore, more pitiless than the sword of Cortez—the small-pox. After leaving Mexico, Narvaez appeared before the Emperor Charles V., to accuse Cortez of treason, and to petition for a redress of his own wrongs, but the dazzling success of Cortez, to say nothing of his large remittances to the royal treasury, was an effectual answer to every charge. The emperor, however, healed the wounded pride, and silenced the complaints of the prosecutor by a commission with the aforementioned sonorous titles to organize an expedition for a new conquest, by which he might compensate himself for the loss of the treasures and empire of Montezuma, which he had so disastrously failed to snatch from the iron grasp of Cortez. The preparations to execute this commission having been made by providing a fleet, a land force, consisting of men-at-arms and cavalry, as well as the necessary supplies, Narvaez, in April, 1528, sailed for the Florida coast, and landed at or near Tampa bay. Having resolved on a westward movement, | 12 HISTORICAL SEETCHES OF submission, however absolute and abject, could stay, and, therefore, more pitiless than the sword of Cortez-the small-pox. After leaving Mesico, Narvaezappeared before the Emperor Charles V., to accuse Cortez of treason, and to petition for a redress of his own wrongs, but the dazzling success of Cortez, to say nothing of his large remittances to the royal treasury, was an effectual answer to every charge. The emperor, however, healed the wounded pride, and silenced the complaints of the prosecutor by a commission with the afore- mentioned sonorous titles to organize an expe- dition for a new conquest, by which he might compensate himself for the loss of the treasures and empire of Montezuma, which he had so disastrously failed to snatch from the iron grasp of Cortez, The preparations to execute this commission having been made by providing a fleet, a land force, consisting of men-at-arms and cavalry, as well as the necessary supplies, Narvaez, in April, 1528, sailed for the Florida coast, and landed at or near Tampa bay. Having resolved on a westward movement, |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA 13 he ordered his fleet to sail along the coast, whilst he, by rather a circuitous march, would advance in the same direction. This parting was at once final and fatal. He again reached the Gulf, somewhere in the neighborhood of St. Marks, with his command woefully wasted and diminished by toil, battle and disease; and, as can well be imagined, with his dreams of avarice and dominion rudely dispelled. No tidings of the fleet from which he had so lucklessly parted being obtainable, despair improvised that fleet with motley sails which we have seen mooring off the island of Santa Rosa in the early days of October, its destination being Mexico—a destination, however, which was but another delusion that the winds and the waves were to dispel. Narvaez found a grave in the maw of the sea, as did most of the remnant of his followers. Famine swept off others, leaving only four to reach Mexico after a land journey requiring years, marked by perils and sufferings incident to such a journey through a vast forest bounded only by the sea, intersected by great rivers, inhabited by savages, and infested by wild beasts. | coLONIAL FLORIDA. 13 he ordered his fleet to sail along the coast, whilst he, by rather a circuitous march, would advance in the same direction, This parting was at once final and fatal. He again reached the Gulf, somewhere in the neighborbood of St. Marks, with his command woefully wasted and diminished by toil, battle and disease; and, as can well be imagined, with his dreams of avarice and dominion rudely dispelled. No tidings of the fleet from which he had so lucklessly parted being obtainable, despair im- provised that fleet with motley sails which we have seen mooring off the island of Santa Rosa in the early days of October, its destination being Mesico-a destination, however, which was but another delusion that the winds and the waves were to dispel. Narvaez found a grave in the maw of the sea, as did most of the remnant of his followers, Famine swept off others, leaving only four to reach Mesico after a land journey requiring years, marked by perils and sufferings incident to such a journey through a vast forest bounded only by the sea, intersected by great rivers, in- habited by savages, and infested by wild beasts. |
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| 14 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF One of the survivors was Cabeça de Vaca, the treasurer and historian of the expedition. Twelve years elapsed after Narvaez discovered Pensacola Bay before the shadow of the white man’s sail again fell upon its waters. In January, 1540, Capitano Maldonado, who was the commander of the fleet which brought Fernando de Soto to the Florida coast, entered the harbor, gave it a careful examination, and bestowed upon it the name of Puerta d’ Anchusi, a name probably suggested by Ochus,* which it bore at the time of his visit. In entering Ochus he ended a voyage westward, made in search of a good harbor, under the orders of Soto, who was at that time somewhere on the Florida coast to the westward of Apalachee. Having returned to Soto, Maldonado made so favorable a report—the first official report—of the advantages of Puerta d’ Anchusi that Soto determined to make it his base of supply. He accordingly ordered Maldonado to proceed to Havana, and after having procured the * So the name is given by historians; but, to be consistent with the termination of other Indian names in West Florida, it should be written Ochee or Ochusee. | 14 HISTORICAL SEETcHES OF One of the survivors was Cabega de Vaca, the treasurer and historian of the expedition. Twelveyearselapsed after Narvaez discovered Pensacola Bay before the shadow of the white man's sail again fell upon its waters, In January, 1540, Capitano Maldonado,who was the commander of the fleet which brought Fernando de Soto to the Florida coast, entered the harbor, gave it a careful esamination, and bestowed upon it thename of Puerta d'Anchusi, a name probably suggested by Ochus,* which it bore at the time of his visit. In entering Ochus he ended a voyage westward, made in search of a good harbor, under the orders of Soto, who m:aSEU-- Having returned to Soto, Maldonado made so favorable a report-the first official report- of the advantages of Puerta d' Anchusi that Soto determined to make it his base of supply. He accordiigly ordered Maldonado to proceed to Havana, and after having procured the * So the name is given by histosians; but,to be consistent with the termination of other Indian names in West Florida, it should be written Ochnee or Ochusee. |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 15 required succors to sail to Puerta d’ Anchusi, where he intended to go himself, and there to await Maldonado’s return before he ventured into the interior; a prudent resolve, suggested possibly by the sight of the bones of Narvaez’s horses, which had been slain to furnish cordage and water-vessels for his fleet. But the resolve was as brief as it was wise. A few days after Maldonado’s departure a captured Indian so beguiled Soto with tales of gold to be found far to the northeast of Apalachee, where he then was, that banishing all thoughts of Puerta d’ Anchusi from his mind, he began that circuitous march which carried him into South Carolina, northern Georgia, and Alabama, where he wandered in search of treasure until disappointment, wasted forces, and needed supplies again turned his march southward, and his thoughts to his rendezvous with Maldonado. That rendezvous was to be in October, 1540. Faithful to instructions, Maldonado was at Puerta d’ Anchusi at the appointed time with a fleet bearing all the required supplies. But Soto did not keep the tryst. He was then at Mauvilla, or Maubila, supposed to be Choctaw | coLONIAL FLORIDA. 15 required succors to sail to Puerta d''Anchusi, where he intended to go himself, and there to await Maldonado's return before he ventured into the interior; a prudent resolve, suggested possibly by the sight of the bones of Narvaez's horses, which had been slain to fuurnish cordage and water-vessels for his fleet. But the resolve was as brief as itwas wise. A few days after Maldonado's departure a cap- tured Indian so beguiled Soto with tales of gold to be found far to the northeast of Apalachee, where he then was, that banishing all thoughts of Puerta d' Anchusi from his mind, he began that circuitious march which carried him into SouthCarolina,northern Georgia,and Alabama, where he wwandered in search of treasure until disappointment, wasted forces, and needed sup- plies again turned his march southward, and his thoughts to his rendezvous with Maldonado. That rendezvous was to be in October, 1640. Faithful to instructions, Maldonado was at Puerta d' Anchusi at the appointed time with a fleet bearing all the required supplies. But Soto did not keep the tryst. He was then at Mau- villa, or Maubila, supposed to be Choctaw |
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| 16 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF Bluff, on the Alabama river, absorbed by difficulties and engaged in conflicts such as he had never before encountered. Through Indians they had communicated, and intense was the satisfaction of Soto and his command at the prospect of a relief of their wants, repose from their toils, and tidings of their friends and loved ones. Soto, however, still ambitious of emulating the achievements of Cortez and Pizzaro, looked upon Puerta d’ Anchusi as only a base of supply and refuge for temporary repose, from which again to set out in search of his goal. But very different were the views of his followers. By eaves-dropping on a dark night behind their tents, he learned that to them Puerta d’ Anchusi was not to be a haven of temporary rest only, but the first stage of their journey homeward, where Soto and his fortunes were to be abandoned. This information again banished Puerta d’ Anchusi from his thoughts under the promptings of pride, which impelled him to prefer death in the wilderness to the mockery and humiliation of failure. He at once resolved to march | 16 HISTORIcAL SKETcHES OF Bluff, on the Alabama river, absorbed by diBi- culties and engaged in conflicts such as he had never before encountered. Through Indians they had communicated, and intense was the satisfaction of Soto and his command at the prospect of a relief of their wants, repose from their toils, and tidin;s of their friends and loved Soto, however, still ambitious of emulating the achievements of Cortez and Pizzaro, looked upon Puerta d' Anchusi as only a base of sup- ply and refuge for temporary repose, from which again to set out in search of his goal. But very different were the views of his follow- ers. By eaves-dropping on a dark night behind their tents he learned that to them Puerta d' Anchusi t as not to be a haven of temporary rest only, but the first stage of their journey homeward, where Soto and his fortunes were to be abandoned. This information again banished Puerta d' Anchusi from his thoughts uunder the prompt- ings of pride, which impelled him to prefer death in the wilderness to the mockery and hnmilia- tion of failure. He at once resolved to march |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 17 deeper into the heart of the continent, and, unconsciously, nearer to the mighty river in whose cold bosom he was to find a grave. As in idea we go into the camp at Mauvilla, on the morning when the word of command was given for a westward march, we see depicted on the war-worn visages of that iron band naught but gloom and disappointment, as, constrained by the stern will of one man, they obediently fall into ranks without a murmur, much less a sign of revolt. Again, if in fancy we stand on the deck of Maldonado’s ship at Puerta d’ Anchusi, we may realize the keen watchfulness and the deep anxiety with which day after day and night after night he scans the shore and hills beyond to catch a glint of spear or shield, or strains his ear to hear a bugle note announcing the approach of his brothers-in-arms. And only after long, weary months was the vigil ended, as he weighed anchor and sailed out of the harbor to go to other points on the Gulf shore where happily he might yet meet and succor his commander. To this task did he devote himself for three | coLONILAL FLORIDA. 17 deeper into the heart of the continent, and, un- consciously,nearer to the mighty river in whose cold bosom he was to find a grave. As in idea we go into the camp at Mauvilla, on the morning when the word of command wasgiven for a westward march, we see depicted on the war-worn visages of that iron band naught but gloom and disappointment, as, con- strained by the stern will of one man, they obediently fall into ranks without a murmur, much less a sign of revolt. Again, if in fancy we stand on the deck of Maldonado's ship at Puerta d' Anchusi, we may realize the keen watchfulness and the deep anxiety with which day after day and night after night he scans the shore and hills beyond to catch a glint of spear or shield, or strains his ear to hear a bugle note announcing the approach of his brothers-in-arms, And only after long, weary months was the vigil ended, as he wcighed anchor and sailed out of the harbor to go to other points on the Gulf shore where happily he might yet meet and :CS7------+--- |
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| 18 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF years, scouring the Gulf coast from Florida to Vera Cruz, until the curtain of the drama was lifted for him, to find that seventeen months previously his long-sought chief had been lying in the depths of the Mississippi, and that a wretched remnant only of that proud host, which he had last seen in glittering armor on the coast of Florida, had reached Mexico after undergoing indescribable perils and privations. | 18 HISTORICAL SK.ETCHES OF years, scouring the Gulf coast from Florida to Vera Cruz, until the curtain of the drama was lifted for him, to find that seventeen months previously his long-sought chief had been lying in the depths of the Mississippi, and that a wretched remnant only of that proud host, which he had last seen in glittering armor on the coast of Florida, had reached Mesico after undergoingg indescribable perils and privations, |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 19 CHAPTER II. The Settlement of Don Tristram de Luna at Santa Maria—His Explorations—Abandonment of the Settlement—The First Pensacola. Nearly twenty years passed away after Maldonado’s visit to Ochus before Europeans again looked upon its shores. In 1556, the viceroy of Mexico, and the bishop of Cuba united in a memorial to the Emperor Charles V. representing Florida as an inviting field for conquest and religious work. Imperial sanction having been secured, an expedition was organized under the command of Don Tristram de Luna to effect the triple objects of bringing gold into the emperor’s treasury, extending his dominions, and enlarging the bounds of the spiritual kingdom by winning souls to the church. For the first two enterprises one thousand five hundred soldiers were provided, and for the last a host of ecclesiastics, | coLONLAL FLORIDA. cHAPTER II. 19 The Settlement of Don Tristram de Luna at Santa Maria- Eis Explorations-Abandonment of the Settlement- The First Pensacola. NEARLY twenty years passed away after Maldonado's visit to Ochus before Europeans again looked upon its shores. In 1556, the viceroy of Mesico, and the bishop of Cuba united in a memorial to the Emperor Charles V. representing Florida as an inviting field for conquest and religious work. Imperial sanction having been secured, an expedi- tion was organized under the command of Don Tristram de Luna to effect the triple objects of bringing gold into the emperor's treasury, extending his dominions, and enlarging the bounds of the spiritual kingdom by winning souls to the church. For the first two enter- prises one thousand five hundred soldiers were ovided, and for the last a host of ecclesiastics, |
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| 20 HISTORICAL SKETCHES friars, and other spiritual teachers. Puerta d’ Anchusi was selected as the place of the projected settlement, the base from which the cross and the sword were to advance to their respective conquests. Accordingly, on the fourteenth day of August, 1559, de Luna’s fleet cast anchor within the harbor, which he named Santa Maria; the same year in which the monarch who authorized the expedition died, the month, and nearly the day on which he, a living man, was engaged in the paradoxical farce of participating in his own funeral ceremonies in the monastery of Yusté. The population of two thousand souls, which the fleet brought, with the required supplies of every kind, having been landed, the work of settlement began. Of the place where the settlement was made there exists no historic information, and we are left to the inference that the local advantages which afterwards induced d’ Arriola to select what is now called Barrancas as the site of his town, governed the selection of de Luna’s, unless tradition enables us to identify the spot, as a future page will endeavor to do. The destruction of the fleet by a hurricane | 20 HISTORIcAL sEETcHES OF friars, and other spiritual teachers. Puerta d' Anchusi was selected as the place of the projected settlement, the base from which the cross and the sword were to advance to their respective conquests, Accordingly,on the fourteenth day of August, 1559, de Luuna's fleet cast anchor within the harbor, which he named Santa Maria; the same year in which the monarch wwho authorized the expedition died, the month, and nearly the day on which he, a living man, was engaged in the paradoxical farce of participating in his own funeral ceremonies in the monastery of Yust\&. The population of two thousand souls, which the fleet brought, with the required supplies of every kind, having been landed, the work of settlement began. Of the place where the settle- ment was made there exists no historicinforma- tion, and we are left to the inference that the local advantages which afterwards induced d' Arriola to select what is now called Barrancas as the site of his town, governed the selection of de Luna's, unless tradition enables uus to identify 2mz |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 21 within a week after its arrival threw a shadow over the infant settlement, aggravating the natural discontent incident to all colonizations, resulting from the contrast between the stern realities of experience and of expectations colored by the imagination of the colonist. Against that discontent, ever on the increase, de Luna manfully and successfully struggled until 1562; and thus it was, that for two years and more there existed a town of about two thousand inhabitants on the shores of Pensacola Bay, which antedated by four years St. Augustine, the oldest town of the United States. Don Tristram de Luna sent expeditions into the interior, and finally led one in person. In these journeys the priest and the friar joined, and daily in a tabernacle of tree boughs the holy offices of the Catholic faith were performed, the morning chant and the evening hymn breaking the silence and awakening the echoes of the primeval forest. Where they actually went, and how far north, it is impossible to say, owing to our inability to identify the sites of villages, rivers, and other land marks mentioned in the narratives of their | cOLONIA1L FLORIDA. within a week after its arrival threw a shadow over the infant settlement, aggravating the natral discontent incident to all colonizations,, resulting from the contrast between the stern realities of experience and of expectations col- ored by the imagination of the colonist. AAgainst that discontent, ever on the increase, de Luna manfully and successfully struggled un- til 1562; and thus it was, that for two years and more there existed a town of about two thousand inhabitants on the shores of Pensa- cola Bay, which antedated by four years St, Augustine, the oldest town of the United States, Don Tristram de Luna sent expeditions into the interior, and finally led one in person, In these journeysthe priest and the friar joined, and daily in a tabernacle of tree boughs the holy offices of the Catholic faith were performed, the morning chant and the evening hymn breaking the silence and awakening the echoes of the primeval forest. Where they actually went, and how far north, it is impossible to say, owing to our inability to identify the sites of villages, rivers, and other land marks mentioned in the narratives of their |
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| 22 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF journeys. The presumption is strong, however, that they took, and followed northward the Indian trail, on the ridge beginning at Pensacola Bay, forming the water shed between the Perdido and Escambia rivers, and beyond their headwaters uniting with the elevated country which throws off its springs and creeks eastward to the Chattahoochee and westward to the Alabama and Tallapoosa rivers. It continued northerly to the Tennessee river; a lateral trail diverging to where the city of Montgomery now stands, and thence to the site of Wetumpka; and still another leading to what is now Grey’s Ferry on the Tallapoosa. That trail, according to tradition, was the one by which the Indians, from the earliest times, passed between the Coosa country and the sea, the one followed in later times by the Indian traders on their pack-ponies, and the line of march of General Jackson in his invasion of Florida in 1814. That it was regarded and used as their guiding thread by de Luna’s expeditions in penetrating the unknown country north of Santa Maria they sought to explore, is evidenced by | ==HISTORICAIL SKETCH ES OF journeys, The presumption is strong,however, that they took, and followed northward the Indian trail, on the ridge beginning at Pensa- cola Bay, forming the water shed between the Perdido and Escambia rivers, and beyond their headwaters uniting with the elevated country which throws off its springs and creeks east- ward to the Chattahoochee and westward to the Alabama and Tallapoosa rivers. It contin- ued northerly to the Tennessee river; a lateral trail diverging to where the city of Montgom- ery now stands, and thence to the site of We- tumpka; and still another leading to what is now Grey's Ferry on the Tallapoosa. That trail, according to tradition, was the one by which the Indians, from the earliest times, passed between the Coosa country and the sea, the one followed in later times by the Indian traders on their pack-ponies, and the line of march of General [ackson in his invasion of Florida in 1814. That it was regarded and used as their guid- ing thread by de Luna's espeditions in pene- trating the unknown country north of Santa Maria they sought to explore, is evidenced by |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 23 two facts. They came to a large river which, instead of crossing, they followed its course, undoubtedly by the ridge, and, therefore, not far from the trail. They also came to or crossed the line of de Soto’s march, which he had made ten years previously, as following the trail they would be compelled to do and found amongst the Indians a vivid recollection of the destruction and rapine of their people by white men, which they assigned as the cause of the then sparsity of population, and the abandonment of clearings formerly under cultivation. So impressed was de Luna with the fertility and other attractive features of the beautiful region of Central Alabama, which he explored, that he determined to plant a colony there. But in that design he was eventually thwarted by the discontent and insubordination of his followers, the most of whom, from the first, seem to have had no other object in view than to break up the settlement, and to terminate their insupportable exile by returning to Mexico. There were amongst those composing the expedition two elements which proved fatal to its success. The gold-greedy soon found that | corLONIAL FLORIDA. two facts. They came to a large river wnich, instead of crossing, they followed its course, undoubtedly by the ridge, and, therefore, not far from the trail, They also came to or crossed the line of de Soto's march, which he had made ten years previously, as following the trail they would be compelled to do and found amongst the Indians a vivid recollection of the destruction and rapine of their people by white men, which they assigned as the cause of the then sparsity of population, and the abandon- ment of clearings formerly under cultivation, So impressed was de Luna with the fertility and other attractive features of the beautiful region of Central Alabama, which he explored, that he determined to plant a colony there. But in that design he was eventually thwarted by the discontent and insubordination of his fol- lowers, the most of whom, from the first, seem to have had no other object in view than to break up the settlement, and to terminate their insupportable exile by returning to Mesico. There were amongst those composing the expedition two elements which proved fatal to its success, The gold-greedy soon found that |
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| 24 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF the pine barrens of Florida, and the fertile valleys of Alabama were not the eldorado of which they had dreamed. To the friar, the spiritual outlook was not more promising, the Indians he encountered being more ready to scalp their would-be spiritual guide than to open their ears to his teachings. Ostensibly, to procure supplies for the colony, two friars sailed for Havana and thence to Vera Cruz, to make known its necessities to the Viceroy of Mexico, and solicit the required succor. But, as soon as they could reach his ear they endeavored to persuade him of the futility of the expedition, and the unpromising character of the country as a field for colonization. At first, his heart being in the enterprise, he was loathe to listen to reports so inconsistent with the glowing accounts which had prompted the expedition and enlisted his zealous support; but, at last, an impression was made upon him, and an inquiry resolved upon. But the viceroyal investigation was forestalled by the visit to Santa Maria of Don Angel de Villafana, whom the Viceroy of Cuba had appointed governor of that, at that time | 24 HISTORIcAL SKETcHES OF the pine barrens of Florida, and the fertile val- leys of Alabama were not the eldorado of which they had dreamed. To the friar, the spiritual outlook was not more promising, the Indians he encountered being more ready to scalp their would-be spiritual guide than to opentheir ears to his teachings. Ostensibly, to procure supplies for the colony, two friars sailed for Havana and thence to Vera Cruz, to make knowrn its necessities to the Viceroy of MIesico, and solicit the required suc- cor. But, as soon as they could reach his ear they endeavored to persuade him of the futility of the expedition, and the unpromising charac- ter of the country as a field for colonization. At first, his heart being in the enterprise, he was loathe to listen to reports so inconsistent with the glowing accountswhich had prompted the expedition and enlisted his zealous support; but, at last, an impression was made upon him, and an inquiry resolved upon. But the viceroyal investigation was fore- stalled by the visit to Santa Maria of Don Angel de Villafana, whom the Viceroy of Cuba had appointed governor of that, at that time |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA 25 undefined region called Florida, who permitted the dissatisfied colonists to embark in his vessels, and abandon the, to them, hateful country in which they had passed two miserable years. Don Tristram de Luna, with a few followers only, remained, with the fixed resolution to maintain the settlement, provided he could secure the approbation and assistance of the Viceroy. But an application for that purpose, accompanied by representations of the inviting character of the interior for settlement, was met by a prompt recall of de Luna and an order for the abandonment of the enterprise. Don Tristram, against whom history makes no accusations of cruelty or bloodshed during his expeditions into the interior, or his stay at Santa Maria, and who, animated by the spirit of legitimate colonization, sought only to found a new settlement, invites respect, if not admiration, as a character distinct and apart from the gold-seeking cut-throat adventurers that Spain sent in shoals to the Gulf shores during the sixteenth century. Sympathy with him in his trials and regret at his failure, induce the reflec- | coLONIAL FLORIDA. 25 undefined region called Florida, who permitted the dissatisfied colonists to embark in his vessels, and abandon the, to them,hateful coun- try in which they had passed two miserable years, Don Tristram de Luna, with a few followers only, remained, with the fised resolution to maintain the settlement, provided he could secuure the approbation and assistance of the Viceroy. But an application for that purpose, accompanied by representations of the inviting character of the interior for settlement, was met by a prompt recall of de Luna and an order for the abandonment of the enterprise. Don Tristram, against whom history makes no accusations of cruelty or bloodshed during his expeditions into the interior, or his stay at Santa Maria, and who, animated by the spirit of legitimate colonization,sought only to found a new settlement, invites respect, if not admira- tion, as a character distinct and apart from the gold-seeking cut-throat adventurers that Spain sent in shoals to the Gulf shores during the sis- teenth century. Sympathy with him in his trials and regret at his failure, induce the reflec- |
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| 26 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF tio that, perhaps, had he been burdened with fewer gold-seekers and only one-twentieth of the ecclesiastics who encumbered and leavened the colony with discontent, his settlement might have proved permanent. The local results of de Luna’s expedition were fixing, for a time, the name of Santa Maria upon the Bay, and permanently stamping upon its shores the name Pensacola; and here narration must be suspended to determine the origin of the latter. Roberts says, the name was “that of an Indian tribe inhabiting round the bay but which was destroyed.” Mr. Fairbanks tells us it was “a name derived from the locality having been, formerly, that of the town of a tribe of Indians called Pencacolas, which had been entirely exterminated in conflicts with neighboring tribes.” The first objection to this assigned origin of the name is, that it is evidently not Indian, such names in West Florida invariably terminating with a double e, as for examples, Apalachee, Choctawhatchee, Uchee, Ochusee, Escambee, Ochesee, Chattahoochee. The “cola” added to | 26 HISTORIcAL sEETcHES OF tion that, perhaps, had he been burdened w1th fewer gold-seekers and only one-twentieth of the ecclesiastics who encumbered and leavened the colony with discontent, his settlement might have proved permanent. The local results of de Luna's expedition were- fixing, for a time, the name of Santa MIaria upon the Bay, and permanently stamping upon its shores the name Pensacola ; and here narra- tion must be suspended to determine the origin of the latter. Roberts says, the name was ''that of an In- dian tribe inhabiting round the bay but which was destroyed.'' Mr. Fairbanks tells us it was ''a name derived from the locality having been, formerly, that of the town of a tribe of Indians called Pencacolas, which had been entirely exterminated in confli6ts with neighboring tribes,'' The first objection to this assigned origin of the name is, that it is evidently not Indian,such names in West Florida invariably terminating writh a double e, as for examples, Apalachee, Choctawhatchee, Uchee, Ochusee, Escambee, Ochesee, Chattahoochee. The ''cola '' added to |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 27 Apalachee, and “ia” substituted in Escambia for ee, indicate the difference between the terminations of Indian and Spanish names. Again, amongst savages, we should expect to find in the name of a place an indication of a natural object, the name being expressive of the object, and hence as lasting. But, that the accident of an encampment of savages upon a locality should stamp that locality with their tribal name, as a designation that should survive not only the encampment, but the very existence of the tribe, is incredible. An extinct tribe would in a generation or two cease to have a place in the traditions of surviving tribes, because their extinction would be only an ordinary event amongst American savages. The termination being Spanish, and no natural object existing suggestive of the name, we naturally turn our search to a vocabulary of Spanish names, historical and geographical. Perched upon a rock springing 240 feet high from the Mediterranean shore of Spain, connected with the mainland by a narrow strip of sand, is the fortified little seaport of Peniscola. Substitute “a” for “i,” transpose “s” and we | coLONIAL FLORIDA. Apalachee, and ''in '' substituted in Escambia for ee, indicate the difference between the ter- minations of Indian and Spanish names. AAgain, amongst savages, we should expect to find in the name of a place an indication of a natural object, the name being expressive of the object, and hence as lasting. But, that the accident of an encampment of savages upon a locality should stamp that locality with their tribal name, as a designation that should sur- vive not only the encampment, but the very existence of the tribe, is incredible. An extinct tribe would in a generation or two cease to have a place in the traditions of surviving tribes, because their extinction would be only an ordinary event amongst American savages. The termination being Spanish, and no nat- ural object existing suggestive of the name, we naturally turn our search to a vocabulary of Spanish names, historical and geographical. Perched upon a rock springing 240 feet high from the Mediterranean shore of Spain, con- nected with the mainland by a narrow strip of sand, is the fortified little seaport of Peniscola. Substitute ''a '' for ''i,'' transpose ''s'' and we |
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| 28 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF have the name for the original of which we seek. The seaports of Spain furnished the great body of Spanish adventurers to America in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; and what more likely than that some native of the little town crowning with its vine-clad cottages the huge rock that looks out upon the “midland ocean,� should have sought to honor his home by fixing its name upon a spot in the new world? When and by whom the name was affixed to our shores is an interesting inquiry. Neither Roberts, nor Fairbanks, nor any other authority, informs us. It comes into history with the advent of d’ Arriola, whose settlement will be the subject of a future page. Three hypotheses furnish as many answers to the question: it was original with Arriola to the extent at least of a new application of a Spanish name; or he found the place already named in some chart or document now lost to us; or already fixed by an Indian tradition, according to Roberts and Fairbanks. The first hypothesis requires no comment. The second rests upon the existence of a fact of | 28 HISTORIcA sKETcHES OF have the name for the original of which we seek. The seaports of Spain furnished the great body of Spanish adventurers to America in the sis- teenth and seventeenth centuries; and what more likely than that some native of the little town crowning with its vine-clad cottages the huge rock that looks out upon the ''midland ocean,'' should have sought to honor his home by fixing its name upon a spot in the new world? When and by whom the name was affised to our shores is an interesting inquiry, Neither Roberts, nor Fairbanks, nor any other author- ity, informs us, It comes into history with the advent of d' Arriola, whose settlement will be the subject of a future page. Three hypotheses furnish as many answers to the question: it was original with Arriola to the extent at least of a new application of a Spanish name; or he found the place already named in some chart or document now lost to us; or already fised by an Indian tradition, according to Roberts and Fairbanks. z2z:z: |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 29 which we can procure no evidence. The third is a tradition founded upon, or involving, a Spanish name. Very extraordinary events or striking objects only are the subjects of the traditions of savage tribes; and what event can be imagined more extraordinary and impressive to the savage mind than to be brought suddenly in contact, for the first time, with the white man under all the circumstances and conditions of de Luna’s settlement? It was one not likely to pass out of tradition in the lapse of one hundred and thirty-three years, for two long lives only would be required for its transmission. The settlers would be, in Indian terminology, a tribe; their departure would be an extinction; and vanity would at last attribute its ending to the prowess of the Red man. A name that identifies a locality and forms a feature of a purely Indian tradition, having no reference to or connection whatever with the white man, must be an Indian name. Here, however, the name under discussion is a Spanish and not an Indian name. The conclusion is, therefore, irresistible, that as the name is | cOLONIAL FLORIDA. 29 which we can procure no evidence. The third is a tradition founded uupon, or involving, a Span- ish name. Very extraordinary events or striking objects only are the subjects of the traditions of savage tribes; and what event can be imagined more extraordinary and impressive to the savage mind than to be brought suddenly in contact, for the first time, with the white man under all the circumstances and conditions of de Luna's settlement! It was one not likely to pass out of tradition in the lapse of one hundred and thirty-three years, for two long lives only would be required for its transmission. The settlers would be, in Indian terminology,a tribe ; their departure would be an extinction; and vanity would at last attribute its ending to the prowess of the Red man. A name that identifies a locality and forms a feature of a purely Indian tradition, having no reference to or connection whatever with the white man, must be an Indian name, Here, however, the name under discussion is a Span- ish and not an Indian name. The conclusion is, therefore, irresistible, that as the name is |
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| 30 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF Spanish the tradition relates to Spaniards, and that the former is a Spanish designation of the locality of the people to whom it relates. The settlement of de Luna was the only Spanish settlement with which the Indians could have come in contact before Arriola’s. That settlement, therefore, must be the subject of the Indian tradition, and the Spanish name Pensacola must have been its name. | 30 HISTORIcAL SKETCHES OF Spamsh the tradition relates to Spaniards, and that the former is a Spanish designation of the locality of the people to whom it relates, The settlement of de Luna was the only Span- ish settlement with which the Indians could have come in contact before Arriola's, That settlement, therefore, must be the subject of the Indian tradition, and the Spanish name Pensa- cola must have been its name. |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 31 CHAPTER III. Don Andrés de Pes—Santa Maria de Galva—Don Andres d’ Arriola—The Resuscitation of Pensacola—Its Consequences. In 1693, Don Andrés de Pes entered the Bay, but how long he remained, or why he came, whether for examination of its advantages, from curiosity, or necessity, to disturb its solitude and oblivion of one hundred and thirty-three years, history does not say. But as a memorial of his visit, he supplemented the name de Luna had given it with de Galva, in honor of the Viceroy of Mexico; and thus, it comes into colonial history with the long title of Santa Maria de Galva. In 1696, three years after de Pes’ visit, Don Andrés d’ Arriola, with three hundred soldiers and settlers, took formal possession of the harbor and the surrounding country, which, to make effectual and permanent, he built a | coLONIAL FLORIDA. CHAPTER III. S1 Don Andr\&s de Pes-Santa Maria de Galva-Don Andres d' Arriola--The Resuscitation of Pensacola-Its Conse- quences. IS 1693, Don Andr\&s de Pes entered the Bay, but how long he remained, or why he came, whether forexamination of its advantages,from curiosity, or necessity, to disturb its solitude and oblivion of one hundred and thirty-three years, history does not say, But as a memorial of his visit, he supplemented the name de Luna had given it with de Galva, in honor of the Viceroy of Mexico; and thus, it comes into colonial history with the long title of Santa Maria de Galva. In 1696, three years after de Pes' visit, Don Andr\&s d' Arriola, with three hundred soldiers and settlers, took formal possession of the harbor and the surrounding country, which, to make effectual and permanent, he built a |
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| 32 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF “square fort with bastions� at what is now called Barrancas, which he named San Carlos. As the beginning, or rather reconstruction of a town named Pensacola, he erected some houses adjacent to the fort. And there, too, was built a church, historically the first ever erected on the shores of Pensacola Bay, but presumptively the second; for it is hardly credible that the large settlement of de Luna, embracing so many ecclesiastics, should have failed to observe the universal custom of the Spaniards to build a church wherever they planted a colony. Irresistible, therefore, is the inference that the first notes of a church-bell heard within the limits of the United States were those which rolled over the waters of Pensacola Bay and the white hills of Santa Rosa from 1559 to 1562. Having demonstrated that the settlement of de Luna was the original Pensacola, that of Arriola was apparently the second, though actually but a resuscitation of the colony of 1559; for the name, the people, though not the same generation, and the place being one, mere lapse of time should not be permitted to destroy | o= EISTORICAL SKETCHES OF ''square fort with bastions '' at what is now called Barrancas, which he named San Carlos, As the beginning, or rather reconstruction of a town named Pensacola, he erected some houses adjacent to the fort. And there, too, was built a church, historically the first ever erected on the shores of Pensacola Bay, but presumptively the second; for it is hardly credible that the large settlement of de Luna,embracing so many ecclesiastics, should have failed to observe the universal custom of the Spaniards to build a church wherever they planted a colony, Irre- sistible, therefore, is the inference that the first notes of a church-bell heard within the limits of the United States were those which rolled over the waters of Pensacola Bay and the white hills of Santa Rosa from 1559 to 1562. Having demonstrated that the settlement of de Luna was the original Pensacola, that of Arriola was apparently the second, though actually but a resuscitation of the colony of 1559; for the name, the people, though not the same generation, and the place being one, mere lapse of timeshould not be permitted to destroy |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 33 the unity which may be so justly attributed to the two settlements. The inhabitants of the town having been largely recruited by malefactors banished from Mexico, must be notched low in the scale of morals. But, perhaps, in some instances at least, actions were then adjudged crimes deserving banishment which might be deemed virtues in a more enlightened age, and under free institutions; for under the despotic colonial governments of Spanish America in that age to criticize the vices, or censure the lawless edicts of a satrap, was a heinous offence, for which transportation was but a mild punishment. Originally, Spain’s dominion was asserted over the entire circle of the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, as well as over all the islands which they girdled. But upon the voyage of La Salle from the upper waters of the Mississippi to the sea, France asserted a claim, under the name of Louisiana, to the entire valley of the river from its spring-heads to the Gulf, making to the extent of the southern limit of her claim, from east to west, a huge gap in Spain’s North American empire. | coLONIAL FLORIDA. 33 the unity which may be so justly attributed to the two settlements. The inhabitants of the town having been largely recruited by malefactors banished from Mesico, must be notched low in the scale of morals. But, perhaps, in some instances at least, actions were then adjudged crimes de- serving banishment which might be deemed virtues in a more enlightened age, and uunder free institutions; for under the despotic colonial governments of Spanish America in that age to criticize the vices, or censure the lawless edicts of a satrap, was a heinous offence, for which transportation was but a mild punishment. Originally, Spain's dominion was asserted over the entire circle of the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, as well as over all the islands which they girdled. But upon the voyage of La Salle from the upper waters of the Mississippi to the sea, France asserted a claim, under the name of Louisiana, to the entire valley of the river from its spring-heads to the Gulf, making to the ex- tent of the southern limit of her claim, from east to west, a buge gap in Spain's North American empire. |
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| 34 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF But where were the eastern boundary of Louisiana, and the western limit of Florida to be fixed? Had the French expedition under Iberville reached Florida before Arriola’s, Pensacola would have been included in Louisiana, and afterwards in the State of Alabama. But Arriola’s settlement was first, in point of time; and it is to him must be attributed the establishment of the Perdido as the boundary line between the French and Spanish colonies, and the consequent exclusion of Pensacola from the limits of the great State of Alabama, her political influence, her fostering care, and, comparatively, from the vitalizing influence of her vast mineral and agricultural resources. The interest of history consists not in the mere knowledge or contemplation of events as isolated facts, but in studying their interrelations, and following their threads of connection through all the meshes of cause and effect. It is, therefore, an interesting reflection that the settlement of Arriola may not have been the absolute, though it was the apparent, cause of the consequences above pointed out. Behind it, in the shadow of a century and a | 34 EISTORICAL SKETcHES OF Buut where were the eastern boundary of JLouisiana, and the western limit of Florida to be fised? Had the French expedition uunder Iberville reached Florida before Arriola's, Pen- sacola would have been included in Louisiana, and afterwards in the State of Alabama. But Arriola's settlement was first, in point of time; and it is to him must be attributed the estab- lishment of the Perdido as the boundary line between the French and Spanish colonies, and the consequent exclusion of Pensacola from the limits of the great State of Alabama,her politi- cal influence, her fostering care, and, compara- tively, from the vitalizing influence of her vast mineral and agricultural resources. The interest of history consists not in the mere knowledge or contemplation of events as isolated facts, but in studying their inter- relations, and following their threads of con- nection through all the meshes of cause and effect. It is, therefore, an interesting reflection that the settlement of Arriola may not have been the absolute, though it was the apparent, cause of the consequences above pointed out. Behind it, in the shadow of a century and a |
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| COLONIAL FLORIDA. 35 third, may perchance be discerned the ultimate and final cause of those consequences in the settlement of de Luna. He planted the first colony, and because he so did, Arriola settled his on that spot upon which the lost chart and tradition probably coincided in fixing the Pensacola of 1559. How illustrative of the truth that as one human life can have but one beginning, so it is with that aggregate of human lives which we call a people. “In the almighty hands of eternal God, a people’s history is interrupted and recommenced—never.”* * The last sentence of Guizot’s History of France. | coLoNIAL FLORIDA. 35 third, may perchance be discerned the ultimate and final cause of those consequences in the settlement of de Luna. He planted the first colony, and because he so did, Arriola settled his on that spot upon which the lost chart and tradition probably coincided in fising the Pen- sacola of 1559. How illustrative of the truth that as one human life can have but one beginning, so it is with that aggregate of human lives which we call a people. ''In the almighty hands of eternal God, a people's history is interrupted and recommenced-never,''* r The last sentence of Guizot's History of France. |
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| ERRATA. Page 11, line 25, for Zenia read Zeruiah, and in the same line read case instead of cose. Page 18, line 13, for Elizabeth read Elijah, and in the same line read Pamela instead of Jarnella. Page 26, line 6, for Elizabeth read Jemima. Page 68, line 4, for 1698 read 1689, and in the 9th line instead of 1776 read 1767. Page 100, line 32, read Rowena Nancy M., Capt. Familton, Harry M., unmarried. Errors in spelling, and occasionally discrepancies in dates may be found, but their correction will readily suggest itself to the reader. | E A A A A. Page 1, line ag, for 2eia read Zemafah, and in the same line read case instead of cose, Page 18, line t3, for E/iea\&ez\&ä read E/)al, and in the same line read Pamrela instead of 5aore/la. Page 26, line 6, for Eliaa\&etA read 72mima,+ Tage 68, line 4, for 5o\& read r6\&g, and in the gth line instead of 776 read r707. Fage roo, line 3a, read Kocwcza Aacy A., Capf. Famf/to, Harry A., umtarried. Errors in spelling, and occasionally discrepancies in dates may be found, but thelr correction will readily suggest itself to the reader. |
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| HORTON ARMS. DERBYSHIRE. A stag's head cabossed, silver; attired, gold; and, for distinction, a canton ermine. Crest, out of the waves of the sea proper, a tilting spear erect, gold; enfiled with a dolphin, silver, finned, gold, and charged with a shell. [Cabossed means cut off short so as not to show the neck; attired denotes the horns; canton ermine, means the black spots upon the white field in the left-hand corner. In the picture the artist has not given the shell upon the dolphin.] Motto.—"Quod Vult, Valde Vult,"—What he wills, he wills cordially and without stint. Arms are hereditary, but the mottoes are not, and may be changed to suit the taste or fancy of any family. There are other Arms of the Horton family, varying somewhat from the above. The date of the grant of the arms I have not found—probably many centuries ago. | I/ oA 7'OA AA --. D EAB YSAIA E. AA z O A stag's head cabossed, silerr; attired, ga/d; and, for distinction, a canton ermine. Crest, out of the waves of the sea proper, a tilting spear erect, g=; enfiled with a dolphin, siAer, finned,gold, and charged with a shell, [Cabossed' means cut off short so as not to show the neck ; attired' denotes the horns ; cafon erine, means the black spots upon the white feld in the left-hand corner, In the picture the artist has not given the shell upon the dolphin .] Motto,-''Quo Vu.r, VaLnm Vur,''--IVAaz ke ifls, ke oillr cordialy and oithout stinr, Arms are hereditary, but the mottoes are not, and may be changed to suit the taste or fancy of any family. There are other Arms of the Horton family, varying somewhat from the above. The date of the grant of the arms I have not found-probably many centuries ago. |
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| PREFACE—INTRODUCTION. We give Barnabas Horton as the Preface and Introduction to this little volume of Chronicles. He was probably the son of Joseph Horton, of Leicestershire, England, and born in the little hamlet of Mousely of that shire. Of his history before he came to America very little is known. He came over in the ship "Swallow" in 1633–38. He landed at Hampton, Mass. How long he remained at Hampton is not known. But in 1640 we find him with his wife and two children in New Haven, Conn., in company with the Rev. John Youngs, William Welles, Esq., Peter Hallock, John Tuthill, Richard Terry, Thomas Mapes, Matthias Corwin, Robert Ackerly, Jacob Corey, John Conklin, Isaac Arnold, and John Budd, and on the 21st day of Oct., 1640, assisted by the venerable Rev. John Davenport and Gov. Eaton, they organized themselves into a Congregational Church, and sailed to the east end of Long Island, now Southold. They had all been members of Puritan churches in England, and all had families with them except Peter Hallock. They doubtless had been on the island previous to this time and looked out their homes. On nearing the shore they cast lots to decide who should first set foot on the land. The lot fell on Peter Hallock, and the place where he stepped upon the land has ever since been known as Hallock's Landing. On coming ashore, they all knelt down and engaged in prayer, Peter Hallock leading, as had been determined by the lot. These were the first persons of any civilized nation that had ever attempted to settle on the east end of Long Island. See Griffin's Journal. Barnabas Horton was a man of deep-toned piety, and a warm advocate of civil and religious freedom. He was one of the most prominent and influential men of Southold. He was for many years a magistrate, and several times a member of the General Court at New Haven and Harford. He built the first framed dwelling-house ever erected on the east of Long Island, and that house is still (1875) standing and occupied. It is a shingle-house, that is, shingles are used for weather-boards, and the sides have never been reshingled, and the roof but once, according to the statement of Jonathan Goldsmith Horton, the last Horton occupant of the old house. | TREFACE--IUNTRODUCTION. We give BARNAnAs HORToN as the Prcface and Introduction to this little volumme of Chronicles, He was prolably the son of Joseph Horton, of Leicestershire, England, and born in the little hamlet of MIousely of that shire, Of his history before he came to America very little is known, He came over in the ship ''Soallo,'' in 1633=38. He landed at Hampton, Mass, How long he remained at Hampton is not known, But in 6jo we findd him with his wife and two chil- dren in New Haven, Conn,, in company with the Rev, John Youngs, . Wlliam Welles, E-q., Peter Hallock, John Tathlll, Richard Terry, Thomas Mapes, Matthias Corwin, Rolbert Ackerly, [acob Corey, John Conklin, Isaac Arnold, and John Budd, and on the e1st day of Oct., 164o, assisted by the venerable Rev. John Davenport and Gov, Eaton, they organized themselves into a Congregational Church, and sailed to the east end of Long Island, now Southold. They had all been members of Pnnritan churches in England, and all had families with them except Peter Hallock, They doubtless had been on the island previous to this time and looked out their homes, On nearing thhe shore they cast lots to decide who should first set foot on the land. The lot fell on Peter Hnllock, and the place where he stepped upon the land has ever since been known as Hallock's Landing. On coming ashore, they all knelt down and engaged in prayer, Peter Hallock leading, as had been determined by the lot. These were the first persons of any civilized nation that had ever attempted to settle on the east end of Long Island. See Gr@n's /aurua. Barnabas Horton was a man of deep-toned piety, and a warm advo- cate of civil and religious freedom. He was one of the mmmost promi- nent and influential men of Southold. He was for many years a magistrate, and several tipmes a member of the General Court at New Hnven and Harford. He built the first framed dwelling-house ever erected on the east of Long Island, and that house is still (1875) standing and occupied. It is a shingle-bouse, that is, shingles are used for weather-boards, and the sides have never been reshingled, and the roof but once, according to the statement of [onathan Gold- smith Horton, the last Horton occupant of the old house. |
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| VI Preface.-Introduction. It is said that Barnabas Horton I. was large in stature, and of a ruddy complexion, and of fine social qualities. His tombstone is of English blue marble, five feet long and about three feet wide. It is placed horizontally over the grave. The stone was re-lettered about fifty or sixty years ago by Jonathan G. Horton. It is elevated about eighteen inches from the ground, on a good stone base. The original base was of brick, but it had all crumbled down many years ago. The present base was put under the stone at the time it was re-lettered by Jonathan G. Horton. The inscription surrounds the border of the stone, and reads as follows: "Here lieth buried the body of Mr. Barnabas Horton, who was born at Mousely, Leicestershire, Old England, and died at Southold, on the 13th day of July, 1680, aged 80 years." In the centre of the stone we find the Epitaph, as follows: "Here lies my body tombed in dust 'Till Christ shall come to raise it with the just; My soul ascended to the throne of God, Where with sweet Jesus now I make abode: Then hasten after me, my dearest wife, To be partaker of this blessed life; And you, dear children, all follow the Lord, Hear and obey His public sacred word; And in your houses call upon His name, For oft I have advised you to the same: Then God will bless you with your children all, And to this blessed place He will you call." Heb. xi: 4.—"He being dead, yet speaketh." It is said that this epitaph was written by himself, and that it, together with the inscription, date of his death excepted, was all put upon the stone before he died. He was the only one of the original thirteen who brought his tombstone with him, and this fact seems to indicate a commendable desire to see that his name and memory should not perish from the earth. Note.—We have followed Griffin's Journal in relation to the thirteen old Puritans who first settled in Southold. But C. B. Moore, Esq., of New York City, who has been more thorough and faithful than any other person, in studying the history | VI /rcface,-utroductio1. It is said that Barnalxas Horton I, was large in stature, and of a ruddy complexion, and of fine social qualities, ch IIis tombstone is of English blue marble, five feet long and about ree feet wide. It is placed horizontally over the grave. The stone was re-lettered about fifty or sixty years ago by onathan G, Horton, It is elevated about eighteen inches from the ground, on a good stone base. The original base was of brick, but it had all crumbled down many years ago. The present base was put under the stone at the ime it was re-lettered by Jonathan G. Horton, Che inscription surrounds the border of the stone, and reads as follows : 'IIere lieth buried the body of MIR. INRNAAs IIORTON, who was born nt Mousely, Leicestershire, Old England, and died at Southold, on the 13th day of July, 168o,aged So years,'' In the centre of the stone we find the Epitaph, as follows : t Here lies my body tombed in dust 'T1! Chri4t shall come to raise it with the just; My soul ascended to the throne of God, Wherc with sweet Jesus now I make abode : T'hen hasten after me, my dearest wife, To be partaler of this blessed life; And you, dear children, all follow the Lord, Iiear and obey His public sacred word ; And in your houses call upon His name, Foor oft I have advied you to the same: Then God will bless you with your chillren all, nd to this blessed place Ie will you call,'' Heh. xi: 4;--''He being dead, yet speaketh,'' It is said that this epitaphh was written by himself, and that it, to- ether with the inscription, date of his death excepted, was all put g upon the stone before he died, He was the only one of the original thirteen who brought his tombstone with him), and this fact seems to indicate a commendable desire to see that his name and memory Yould not perish from the earth. NorE.-We hnve followed Gr[dinr %aurnal in relution to the thirteen old Turi- tans who first settled in Southold. IDut C. o, Moore, E-q,, of New Yorl City, who has been more thorough and faithful than any other person, in studying the history |
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| Preface.-Introduction. VII and genealogy of the early settlers of Southold—examining all the deeds and wills, and other authentic documents to be found, and also copying the inscriptions from every headstone, not only in Southold, but over nearly the whole Island—makes it very evident that some of those named were not there at so early a date, and he also says that Peter Hallock, who is named as one of the thirteen, was the grandson of the Puritan Hallock who settled at Southold, and whose Christian name was William. Mr. Moore is one of the best genealogists of the country, and in relation to Long Island, he is the best authority extant. MORE ABOUT THE OLD HOUSE. It will be seen by the engraving that the old house is double. The western part is that which was built by Barnabas in 1659–60. The east or two-story part was built by Jonathan I., about 1682. The upper room of this part was used for a court-house for nearly twenty years, as we learn from Thompson's History of Long Island, and some of the old benches used when it was a court-house are still preserved. The old "castle," as Jonathan G. Horton, its last Horton occupant, used to call it, is in all probability the oldest wood house in America. I know of no dwelling-house of any kind, stone or brick, now standing, that can date back as far as this venerable old mansion. There were a few huts on the east of Long Island previous to 1640—two or three it is said on Shelter Island. But these, as well as those built by the Puritans, immediately on their settlement in Southold, soon all passed away. Not a vestige of any of the first generation buildings can be found except this one. It remained for the house that Barnabas built to survive the wreck of ages, and to stand to-day as a noble representative of the dwellings of two hundred and fifteen years ago. But the old house stands to-day not only as peering above all others by its age, but also by its occupancy. It is not very often that we find two generations of the same name, living and dying in the same house—rarely find three. But here we have six generations in succession, all bearing the Horton name, living and dying in the same house, and all born in it except Barnabas I., and his son Jonathan. We may go to the castles and palaces of the old world, and search long and diligently, and fail to find a parallel case. With a few repairs, the old castle may yet stand for generations far in the future. It requires some thought and reflection to realize the lapse of time since the old house was built. See the old Puritan himself there twenty years; then his son Jonathan, twenty-eight years; and then Jonathan, Jr., about sixty years; and next Lawrence and his son Jona- | /rc/.tce.-/urrofurrior. VIs and genealogy of the early settlers of Southold-cxamining all the deeds and ils, and other authentic documents to bbe found, and also copying the inscriptions from every headstone, not only in Southold, but over nearly the whole Island-males it very evident that some of those named were not there at so early a date, and he also snys thnt Perer Hnllock, who is named as one of the thirteen, was the grandson of the Puuritan 1Inllock who settled at Southold, and whose Christian name was WVillinmy, Mr, MIoore is one of the best genealogists of the country, and in relation to Long Island, he is the best authorty extant. NIORE ABOUT THE OTLD HOUSE. It will be seen by the engraving that the old house is double, The western part is that which was built by Barnabas in 16g0-6o. The east or two-story part was built by Jonathan I., about 168a. The upper room of this part was used for a court-house for nearly twenty years, as we learn from Thhompson's History of Long Island, and some of the old benches used when it was a court-house are still preserved. T'he old ''castle,'' as Jonathan G. Horton, its last Horton occupant, used to call it, is in all probability the oldest wood house in America, ,I know of no dwelling-house of any kind, stone or brick, now stand- ing, that can date back as far as this venerable old mansion, There were a few huts on the east of lLLong Island previous to 164o-two or three it is said on Shelter Island. But these, as well as those built by the Puritans, immmediately on their settlement in Southold, soon all passed away, Not a vestige of any of the first generation buildings can be found except this one, It remained for the house that Barnabas built to survive the wreck of ages, and to stand to-day as a noble representative of the dwellings of two hundred and fifteen years ago. But the old house stands to-day not only as peering above all others by its age, but also by its occupancy, It is not very often that we find two generations of the same name, living and dying in the same house-- rarely find three. But here we have six generations in succession, all bearing the Horton name, living and dying in the same house, and all born in it except Barnabas I., and his son Jonathan. We may go to the castles and palaces of the old world, and search long and dili- gently, and fail to find a parallel case. WVith a few repairs, the old castle may yet stand for generations far in the future. It requires some thought and reflection to realize the lapse of time since the old house was built, See the old Puritan himself there twenty years ; then his son Jonathan, twenty-eight years; and then Jonathan, [r., about sixty years; and next Lawrence and kis son [ona- 4 |
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| VIII Preface.-Introduction. than over a half a century; and lastly Jonathan G. Horton, about a half a century; making in all two hundred and thirteen years at the death of Jonathan G. Horton, 3 July, 1873. These six generations all living and dying in the old mansion! Could those old walls re-echo all the words ever spoken there, and exhibit anew all the scenes ever witnessed there—the book containing such a record would vastly exceed in volume the size of the old castle. It would bring to light much that is now in darkness, and must forever remain hidden from the generations of the living. At the death of Jonathan G. Horton, the old homestead became, by will, the property of the Rev. Mrs. Williams, of Brooklyn, N. Y., who was the adopted daughter of Jonathan G. Horton, he never having had issue, so that on the 3d of July, 1873, the old homestead went out of the Horton name. Mrs. Williams proposes to sell it, and if some of the Hortons do not buy it, it will indicate a lack of decent respect for the old castle, if not for the Horton name. It should be bought back into the Horton name, suitably repaired and preserved for the wonder and admiration of generations of Hortons yet unborn. Jonathan G. Horton, the short, thick man, and Stuart T. Terry, are the two men seen in the engraving, in front of the old house. Mr. Stuart T. Terry, of Southold, L. I., has kindly copied and forwarded to me, many interesting facts from the New Haven Colonial Records, some of which are here inserted: "Concerning some farmers neere Southold, at a place called Hashamamock, aboute whom Barnabas Horton, one of ye Constables last yeare, which was 1656, also, Constable in 1659. 29 May, 1661, Barnabas Horton was a Deputy to the New Haven Court—also, 31 May, 1654, the Deputies from Southold, presented to ye court a wrighting from their towne, wherein it is desired that Barnabas Horton and John Peaken, the two present Deputies of Southold, may be chosen Constables for that plantation; which was done. Barnabas Horton was a Deputy to the Court in New Haven, in 1654-'56-'58-'59 and 1661. In 1655 there was no election, but he wrote a letter to the Court on public affairs. In 1662 he was admitted a Freeman of Connecticut Colony, at Harford, and in 1663 and 1664 he was a Deputy to the General Court, at Harford. He was a Magistrate in 1664, and until his death. He is one of the Patentees of the Town of Southold in 1676." Made his will May 10, 1680. Died 13 July, 1680. Will proved. Lib. 2, N. Y., p. 54.—Vide "Moore's Indexes of Southold." | vIII /rcfirce,---ufradicioau. than over a half a century; and lastly onathan G. Horton, about a half a century; making in all two hundred and thirteen years at the death of [onathan G, Horton, 3 July, 187;. These sis generations all living and dying in thhe old mansion ! Could those old walls re- echo all the words ever spoken there, and exhibit anew all the scenes ever witnessed there-the book containing such a record would vastly exceed in volume the size of the old castle. It would bring to light much that is now in darkness, and must forever remain hidden from the generations of the living. At the death of Jonathan G. Horton, the old homestead became, by will, the property of the Rev. Ms, Williams, of Brooklyn, N. Y., who was the adopted daughter of Jonathan G. Horton, he never having had issue, so that on the ;d of July, 1873, the old homestead went out of the Horton name. Mrs. Williams proposes to sell it, and if some of the Hortons do not buy it, it will indicate a lack of decent respect for the old castle, If not for the Horton name. It should be bought back into the HIorton name, suitably repaired and preserved for the wonder and admiration of generations of Hortons yet unborn, Jonathan G. Horton, the short, thick man, and Stuart T. Terry, are the two men seen in the engraving, in front of the old house. Mr. Stuart T. Terry, of Southold, 1- ., has kindly copied and for- warded to me, many interesting facts from the New Haven Colonial Records, some of which are here inserted : ''Concerning some faarmers neere Southold, at a place called Hash- amamock, abboute whom BARNABAS HORTON, one of ye Constables last yeare, which was 1656, also, Constable in 65o. 20 May, 166p, Bar- nabas Horton was a 1Pgp9Y to the New Haven Court-also, ; May, 954, the Dgputies from Southold, presented to ye court a wrighting from their towne, wherein it is desired that BARNABAs HORTON and [oHN TEAEN, the two present Deputies of Southold, may be chosen Constables for that plantation ; which was done, Barnabas Horton was a Deputy to the Court in New Haven, in 16g4-'g6-'g8-'g0 and r661. In 6g there was no election, but he wrote a letter to the Court on pubblic affairs. In r662 he was admitted a Freeman of Con- necticut Colony, at Harford, and in r66; and r664 he was a Deputy to the General Court, at Harford. He was a Magistrate in 1664, and until his death. He is one of the Patentees of the 'Town of Southold in r676,'' Made his will May o, 68o. Died r; uly, 68o. WiII proved. Lib. :, N. Y., p. 54.- Tae ''Aaore' laaves gSauroAz.'' |
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| Preface.-Introduction. IX THE OLD BIBLE. Perhaps the most interesting relic left by our good old ancestor, Barnabas, is the old Bible, which he brought with him from England. It is now in the possession of the Hon. Silas Horton, of Southold. It was taken to the Bible House, New York, some years ago, and carefully repaired, and every torn leaf mended, so that it is now entire, and in a good condition. We find in it the following record: "Imprinted at London, by the Deputies of Christian Barker." Printer to the Queen's Most Excellent Majestie, 1597. Cum Privilegio. Then follows in manuscript: "Barnabas Horton, to his son Jonathan Horton, this Bible he did bequeath, in the year of our Lord, 1680." Then follows: "Capt. Jonathan Horton, his Book. God give him grace. Jonathan Horton, 1683." In another place, and probably in the handwriting of Jonathan Horton, Jr., we find: "The Word of the Lord God of Jonathan Horton, 1748-'49." Again we find: "Lydia Tuthill, her Book, given her by her mother, as it is said." And then follows: "Feb. 8, in the year 1742, then Jonathan Tuthill departed this life—the son of Henry Tuthill and Bethia (Horton) Tuthill. Susanna Tuthill, wife of Jonathan Tuthill, departed this life May 16, in the year 1743, in the 50th year of her age. Henry Tuthill, departed this life the 4th day of January, in the year 1750, aged 84. Bethia Tuthill, wife of Henry Tuthill, departed this life March 16th, 1744, in the 73d year of her age." OLD MUSKET, CASK, AND WALKING STAFF. The old wood hooks are still attached to the big beam of the old house, upon which Barnabas used to hang his old musket, which was called "uncle Barney's quart pot." He brought it with him from England. It is now in the possession of Barnabas B. Horton, of 1* | /re/ice,--/utroctiou. r. O.D TII.IE. 1N 1'erhaps the most interesting relic left by our good old ancestor, Barnabas, is the oLn ßmLE, which he brought with him from England. It is now in the possession of the Hon, Silas Horton, of Southold. It was taken to the llible House, New York, some years ag0, and care- fully repaired, and every torn leaf mended, so that it is now entire, and in a good condition. We find in it the following record: 'tImprinted at London, ory the Deputies of Chri-tinn Hnrler,'' Prinzer to e ( een's Aa Erceanz Alaesi, 397 Then follows in manuscript: CUNU IR\1LEGI0. 'Barnabas Horton, to his son Jonathan Horton, this DTLE he did bequeath, in the year of our Lord, 168o,'' Then follows : . '* Capt. Jonathan Horton, his oo2, God gieAi,grac, onathan Horton,168;.'' In another place, and probably in the handwriting of Jonathan Horton, Jr., we find: e 7E2 IEad of the Lord Gadd ef %anazhan /farton, 7yS-'2g.'' Again we find: ''Lydia Tuthill, her Boo@, given her by her mother, as it is said,'' And then follows : Feb, 8, in the year i742, (hen Jonathan Tuthill departed this life---the son of Henry Tuthill and Bethia (Horton) Tuthill, Susanna Tuthill, wife of Jonathan TuUill, departed this life MIay 16, in the year 1743, in the soth year of her age. Henry Tuhill, departed this life the gth day of Janunry, in the year t750,aged Sp, Behia Tuhill, wfe of Henry Tuthill, departed this life Mnrch 16th, 1744, in the 734 year of her age.'' OL ouu-rr-1, .ASK, AND WAASusu STAFF. - ue ad zoood Aoas are still attached to the big beam of the old house, upon which Barnabas used to hang his oLo MUSEET, which was called ''uncle Barney's guart por,'' He brought it with him from England. It is now in the possession of Barnabas B. Horton, of 1= |
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| X Preface.-Introduction. Southold. It is still a long old gun, though not as long as it was once, as it was bursted by overloading on one Thanksgiving Day, and about eight or ten inches of the muzzle cut off. The CASK, in which he packed a portion of his household goods, and brought over with him, is still in existence, and is owned by Gilbert W. Horton, of Bay View, Southold. It is doubly historic from the fact that when the British invaded Long Island it was filled with wheat and buried, thus securing the wheat from the foraging parties of the British army. It is made of solid oak—hoops and all—the hoops are square and about an inch and a quarter thick—only one hoop missing. It is used for a grain cask, and will hold about fifteen bushels. It was formerly called "uncle Barney's money barrel," as romance had it, that he brought it over full of gold and silver. His WALKING STAFF is still preserved. It is made of the Yew tree wood, has a fine ivory head with the letters "J. H." and the figures "1617" in apparently golden specks indented into it, from which it would seem that it once belonged to his father, and that J. H. (Joseph Horton) were his initials. It is now owned by Silas R. Horton, of Goshen, N. Y. Many other mementos of the old Puritan are in existence, some of them in the Long Island Historical Rooms, Brooklyn, N. Y. The HORTON NAME—First Settlers in this Country. The word Horton in the Anglo-Saxon language means an enclosure, or garden of vegetables. It is said to be derived from ort and tun, ort, meaning plant, and tun, enclosed. The name is evidently of Latin origin, and has been known in England ever since the conquest of Cæsar. The Hortons in England, and their descendants in America, have generally been cultivators of the soil. They have been found almost universally in the middle class of society, and it is not known that any royal blood has ever coursed in their veins. They are, and always have been, producers rather than consumers, and for industry, integrity, and piety, they will lose nothing in a comparison with the renowned families of either the new or the old world. The first of the family who emigrated to this country, of whom we have any authentic record, came over from England 1633 to 1638. Thomas, Jeremiah, and Barnabas, were among the early emigrants, and old tradition says they were brothers. Thomas came over in the "Mary and John," in 1633, settled permanently in Springfield, Mass. | /rcfiace,-/urodfuciou, Southold. It is still a long old gun, though not as long as it was once, as it was bursted by overloading on one 'Thanksgiving Day, and about eight or ten inches of the muzzle cut off. The casE, in which he packed a portion of his household goods, and brought over with him, is still in esistence, and is owned by Gilbert W. Horton, of Bay View, Southoll, It is doubly historic from the fact that when the British invaded Long lsland it was filled with wheat and buried, thus securing the whheat from the foraging parties of the British army, It is made of solid oak-hoops and all--- the hoops are square and about an inch and a quarter thick---only one hoop missing. It is used for a grain cask, and will hold about fifteen bushels. It was formerly called ''uuncle Barney's money barrel,'' as romance had it, that he brought it over full of gold and silver, His wALKiNG STAFF is still preserved. It is made of the Yew tree wood, has a fine ivory head with the letters ''J. H.'' and the figures '* 161;'' in apparently golden specks indented into it, from which it would seem that it once belonged to his father, and that [. H. (]oseph HIorton) were his initials, It is now owned by Silas R. Horton, of Goshen, N. Y. Many other mementos of the old Puritan are in existence, some of them in the lAong Island Historical Rooms, Brooklyn, N. Y. THE HOR'TON NAME---FRST .SrTT.ERS 1N THs CoUSTRY. 1he word Horton in the Anglo-Saxon language means an enclosure, or garden of vegetables, It is said to be derived from art and /un, art, meaning plant, and zau, enclosed. 'The name is evidently of Latin origin, and has been known in England ever since the conquest of Ca:sar. The Hortons in England, and their descendants in America, have generally been cultivators of the soil, They have been found almost universally in the middle class of society, and it is not known that any royal lood has ever coursed in their veins, They are, and always have been, ptradicers rather than cousuuters, and for industry, integ- rity, and piety, they will lose nothing in a comparison with the re- nowned families of either the new or the old world. The first of the family who emigrated to this country, of whhom we have any authentic record, came over from England 1633 to 168. i homas, Jeremiah, and Barnabas, were among the early emigrants, and old tradition says they were hrothers, Thomas came over in the ''Aary and/aAu,'' in 1633, settled permanently in Springfield, Mass, |
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| Preface.-Introduction. XI Jeremiah also settled in Massachusetts. There was a John Horton in New York, in 1645, but no one has been found claiming descent from him. He probably returned to England. It is not known from what place in England either Thomas or Jeremiah came, nor is there any certain evidence that they were brothers of Barnabas, but the three coming over about the same time would favor the tradition that they were brothers. The Head Quarters of Cæsar's army was near the present Leicester, the principal town of that county, and the Horton name has been known there to the remotest period of any authentic records. This fact, together with the name itself, favors the idea that the family was of Roman origin. The name in olden time was frequently written Orton, and it is highly probable, that the Ortons and Hortons were originally from the same family, and perhaps also the Nortons. ANTIQUITY OF THE HORTON FAMILY. The antiquity of the Horton Family is established by the fact, that one Robert De Horton, manumitted a bondman to his manor of Horton, long before the time of Henry Larey, Earl of Lincoln, who died in 1310. It is also ascertained that the Hortons had a manor-house in Great Horton, with a mill and certain demesne lands therewith belonging, at a very remote period. William Horton, Esq., of Frith House, in Barksland, Halifax, descended from the above-mentioned Robert, married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Hanson, Esq., of Toothill, had issue and died about 1640, viz.: 1. William, of Barkisland, or Bark Island Hall, who purchased in the 15th of Charles I., the estate of Howroyde, was born about 1576. 2. Joseph, born about 1578.—Burke's Landed Gentry, vol. 1, p. 345. It is held that this Joseph settled in Mousely, Leicester Co., and was the father of Barnabas Horton. It is highly probable that Barnabas was not the oldest son, and not inheriting real estate, may have been one reason for his emigrating to America. It is known that Capt. Jeremy Horton, 18 Aug., 1626, was the master and owner of the ship "Swallow," of Barnstable, and that he made voyages to New England, in 1633 and 1638, and in a subsequent voyage he was shipwrecked and several lives lost—the crew and master came to Boston, but the vessel was lost. Capt. Roger Horton, about this time, had a prisoner delivered to | /Yrc/icr.--/u/ra/uctiau, Jeremiah also settled in NIassachusetts, 'There was a [ohn Horton in New York, in 1045, but no one has been found claiming descent from im, He probably returned to lLngland. It is not known fromy what place in England either Thomas or Jere- miah came, nor is there any certain evidence that they were brothers of Barabas, bnt the thee coming over about the same time would favor the tradition that they were brothers, The Head Ouarters of Ca:sar's army was near the present Leicester, thne principal town of that county, and the Horton name has been known there to the remotest period of any authentic records, 'This fact, together with the name itself, fvors the idea that the family was of Komyan origin, The name in olden tidme was frequently written Orton, and it is highly probable, that the Ortons and Hortons were originally from the same family, and perhaps also the Nortons. ANTIOUIIY OF THE HORTON FAMULY. The antiquity of the Horton Family is established by the fact, that one Robert De Horton, manumitted a bondman to his manor of Horton, long before the time of Henry Lassey, Earl of Lincoln, who died in r31o. It is also ascertained that the Hortons had a manor- house in Great Horton, with a mill and certain demesne lands there- with belonging, at a very remote period, WiIliam Horton, Esq., of Frith House, in Barksland, Halifax, descended fromy the above-mentioned Robert, married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Hanson, Esq., of Toothill, had issue and died about 164o, viz,: r. William, of Barkisland, or Bark 1-lnnd Hall, who purchased ia the 1gh of Charles I., the estate of Howroyde, was born about g76. 2, Joseph, born about 157S.--Baoe's Landed Genry, va 1. /\<.35. It is held that this Joseph settled in Mousely, Leicester Co,, and was the father of Barnabas Horton, lt is highly probable that Bar- nabas was not the oldest son, and not inheriting real estate, may have been one reason for his emigrating to America, It is known that Capt. [eremy Horton, 18 Aug., 1626, was the master and owner of the ship ''Soaloo,'' of Barnstable, and that he made voyages to New England, in 1633 and 1638, and in a subsequent voyage he was shipwrecked and several lives lost-the crew and master came to Boston, but the vessel was lost. Capt. Roger Horton, about this time, had a prisoner delivered to |
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| Preface.-Introduction XIII Page 535. Southold Estemation for ye year 1683. Jonathan Horton, £440, 13s. Joshua Horton, £173. Caleb Horton, £350. Benjamin Horton, £267. Documentary History, vol. i, page 669. A list of names of old and young, Christians and heathens, freemen and servants, white and black, inhabittinge within the township of Southold, 1698: Jonathan Horton, Bethia Horton, Jonathan Horton, Jr., William Horton, James Horton, Mehetabel Horton, Mary Horton, Abigail Horton, Patience Horton, Joshua Horton, Mary Horton, Ephraim Horton, Mary Horton, Jr., Bathia Horton, Elizabeth Horton, Zeruiah Horton, Caleb Horton, Sarah Horton, widow, Penelope Horton, Mary Horton, widow, Caleb Horton, Jonathan Horton, David, Barnabas, and Phebe Horton, Joshua Horton, Jr., Eliza Horton, Eliza Horton, Jr., Patience Horton, Deborah Horton, Martha Horton, Bethia Horton, Barnabas Horton. Documentary History, vol. iii., p. 855.—Capt. James Horton, 1775, takes a census of slaves in Westchester County, New York, in which he sets down to himself 1 male and 1 female negro. Same vol., p. 863.—Rev. Simon Horton, 1755, has 1 female and 2 male slaves. Documentary History, vol. iv., p. 200.—List of freeholders 27 February, 1737. Jonathan and Joseph Horton, Joshua, Jr., and Jonathan, Jr., David and Caleb Horton. Note. The reader will see at a glance the plan of this book. We commence with the Christian name. Then follows the parentage, genealogical data, &c., and then the Christian names of the children and order of births. In many of the early families the exact order of births cannot be ascertained; but it has been approximated as nearly as possible. The lineage is given in connection with the first member of the family. The Roman numerals indicate the order of births. The sons and daughters of the old Puritan, Barnabas, constitute the second generation, but they are spoken by way of eminence as Joseph I., Hannah I., &c. The book contains much repetition, but none too much to make it plain and easy to study. This little book contains the chronicles of only about one-half of the Horton families looked up. Those whose genealogical data are given only in a small part, and those whose correct lineage has not been satisfactorily ascertained, are not included in this book. | Trefircc.-/utrodtctio. xIII I'age 535. Souuthold Estemation for ye year 1683. 7onazkan lartan,C440, 13%. 5oa lrtan, 773. O laran, C35o. /njanim llorten, 7=67. JDocumentary History, vol. 1, jage 666. A list of names of old and young, Christians and heathens, ffremen and servants, white and black, inhalbittinge within the township of Southold, 1608: Jonnthan Horton, lßethia Iiorton, Jonnthan IIorton, Jr,, William Horton, James HIorton, Mehetabel Horton, Mary IIorton, Abigail Horton, Iatience Horton, Joshua Horton,MIary IIorton, Ephraim IIorton, Mary Hiorton,Jr,, Bathin Horton, Elizabeth Iiorton, Zeruiah IIorton, Caleb Horton, Sarah IIorton, widow, Penelope IIorton, NInry Horton, widow,Caleb lIorton, Jonathan Horton, David, Barnabas,and Phebe IIorton, Joshua Iiorton, Jr,, Eliza Horton, Eliza Horton, Jr,, Patience Horton, Deborah Horton, Martha Horton, Bethia IIorton, Barnabas Horton. Documentary History, vol, iii.,p. 855.-Capt. James Horton, 775, takes a census of slaves in Westchester County, New York, in which he sets down to himself male and 1 female negro. Same vol., p. 863.--Rev. Simon Horton, 1755, has female and : male slaves. Docunentary History, vol. iv., p, 2oo.-List of freeholders z7 Feb- ruary, 737 Jonathan and Joseph Horton, Joshua, Jr., and Jonathan, r., David nnd Caleb Horton, NorE. The reader will see at a glance the plan of this book, We com- mence with the Christian name. Then follows the parentage, genea- logical data, \&c., and then the Christian names of the children and order of births, In many of the early families the exact order of births cannot be ascertained ; but it has been approximated as nearly as possible. The lineage is given in connection with the first memmber of the family. The Roman numerals indicate the order of births. The sons and daughters of the old Puritan, Barnabas, constitute the second generation, but they are spoken by way of eminence as [oseph I., Hannah I., \&:c. The book contains much repetition, but none too mmuch to make it plain and easy to study, This little book contains the chronicles of only about one-half of the Horton families looked up. Those whose genealogical data are given only in a small part, and those whose correct lineage has not been satisfactorily ascertained, are not included in this book, |
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| XIV Preface.-Introduction. This book is mainly what those who have kindly furnished records and sketches have made it. The whole has been carefully compiled. But genealogical works, almost of necessity, contain many errors. Doubtless this small work has its full share. But when errors are discovered, notice thereof should be given, so that a second edition may be made entirely truthful. Thankful to all who have generously given their assistance, this work is sent out as a small contribution to the genealogical literature of the day, and in the hope that a more full and extensive book of Horton chronicles may be issued at no very distant day. Terrytown, 10 Jan., 1876. | xIV Prc/izce.-/rrodfucfiou, 'his book is mainly what those who have kindly furnished records nnd sketches have made it. The whole has been carefully compiled. Buut genealogical works, almost of necessity, contain many errors, Doubtless this small work has its full share. But when errors are dis- covered, notice thereof should be given, so that a second edition may be made entirely truthful, Thankful to all who have generously given their assistance, this work is sent out as a small contribution to the genealogical literature of the day, and in the hope that a more full and extensive book of Horton chronicles may be issued at no very distant day. u2rr)fa, o/a., 1876. |
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| First Generation.—Barnabas I. I. Barnabas Horton, son of Joseph Horton, born in Mousely, Leicestershire, England, 13 July (old style), 1600. Emigrated to America in the ship "Swallow," Captain Jeremy Horton, master and owner, in 1635 to '38, landed at Hampton, Massachusetts, came to New Haven in 1640; his wife, Mary, and two children, Joseph and Benjamin, with him. He settled permanently on the east end of Long Island, now Southold, Suffolk County, New York, in October, 1640. Children, all born in Southold, except Joseph and Benjamin, who were born in England: 1. Joseph, born about 1632; married Jane Budd, daughter of John Budd I. 2. Benjamin, born about 1634; married Anna Budd, sister of Jane. 3. Caleb, born about 1640; married Abigail Hallock. 4. Joshua, born about 1643; married Mary Tuthill. 5. Jonathan, born about 1648; married Bethia Wells. 6. Hannah, married Barnabas Terrill. 7. Sarah, married Joseph Conklin. 8. Mary, married Joseph Budd, son of John Budd. 9. Mercy, married Christopher Youngs. 10. Abigail, married Charles Booth. Second Generation.—Joseph I. I. Joseph, the first son of Barnabas I., was born in Mousely, England; exact date of his birth has not been found. Probably 1635. He came to this country with his father. He married, about 1655, Jane Budd, daughter of John Budd, one of the original thirteen Puritans, who settled in Southold in 1640. He resided near his father in Southold for several years after his marriage; but about the year 1664, he moved to Rye, Westchester County, New York, to which place his father-in-law, John Budd, had previously gone. 9 | /rsf Geueratiot,-Bara\&as I. I. BARNABAs HoRTON, son of Joseph Horton, born in MIousely, Leicestershire, England, ; July (old style), 16oo. Emigrated to America in the ship '' Swallow,'' Captain [eremy Horton, master and owner, in 16;5 to '18, landed at Hampton, Massachusetts, came to New Haven in 164o; his wife, MARY, and two children, Joseph and Benjamin, with him. He settled permanently on the east end of Long Island, now Southold, Suffolk County, New York, in October, 164o. Children, all born in Southold, except [oseph and Benjamin, who were born in England : 1. Joseph, born about 1632; married Jane Buudd, daughter of John Budd I. 2. Benjamin, born about 1634; married Anna Budd, sister of Jane, 3, Caleb, born about 64o; married Abigail Hallock, 4. Joshua, born about 1643; married Mary Tuthill, 5. Jonnthan, born about 164S; mnrried Bethia Wells, 6. Hannah, 7. Sarah, S. Mary, g. Mercy, o, Abigoil, married Barnabas Terrill, married Joseph Conklin, married oseph Budd, son of Iohn Buudd. married Christopher Youngs. married Charles Booth. Sccoud Geuerafio,--/eseph /. I. JosEPH, the first son of Barnabas I., was born in Mousely, England; exact date of his birth has not been found. Probably 35. He came to this country with his father, He married, about 1655, [ANE BUD, daughter of [ohn Budd, one of the original thirteen Puritans, who set- tled in Souphold in 164o, He resided near his father in Southold for several years after his marriage ; but about the year 166i, he moved to Rye, Westchester County, New York, to which place his father-in- law, John Budd, had previously gone. |
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| 10 Second Generation.-Joseph I. He was admitted a freeman of Connecticut Colony in 1662. In 1663 he witnessed a deed of Tucker and Brush to Mapes. He sold his house, and lot of four acres of land, to his father, Barnabas Horton, and also deeded land to John Youngs, in 1665. In 1671 he was chosen one of the Selectmen of Rye, and about this time he is one of a Committee of three to procure a minister. In 1678 he was a Justice of the Peace, and about this time he was a Lieutenant, and then a Captain of a Militia Company, and also authorized by the General Court to issue warrants, and to unite persons in holy matrimony. In 1690-'91 he was devisee of his brother Benjamin, and his brother Joshua was executor. In 1695 he was chosen one of the vestrymen of the church, and in 1699 he was licensed to keep a public house of entertainment. In addition to all these dignities, he also filled the office of miller, and in this useful calling he was succeeded by several of his descendants. He had five sons and several daughters, only one of whom is mentioned. (Vide "Moore's Indexes of Southold," and "Baird's History of Rye," New York.) Children, all born at Southold, except Jeremiah, who was probably born at Rye: 1. Joseph, born about 1654; married, perhaps, Mary Hallock. 2. John, born about 1656; married, perhaps, Sarah Vail. 3. Samuel, born about 1658. 4. David, born about 1661. 5. Abigail, born about 1663; married Roger Park. 6. Jeremiah, born about 1666. II. Benjamin, son of Barnabas I., born in Mousely, England, 1637. came to this country with his father; married about 1661 Anna Budd, daughter of John Budd I., and settled near his father, in Southold. He was a freeman of Connecticut Colony in 1664, deeds land to Christopher Youngs in 1670, and to Samuel King and others at various times. Anna, his wife, witnesses deeds in 1673, 1683–85. On 19 February, 1686, he makes his will, appointing his brother Joseph devisee and his brother Joshua executor. He moved to Rye about 1665, where he died, 3 November, 1690, without issue. (Vide "Moore's Indexes of Southold," pp. 22 and 23.) Second Generation.—Caleb I. III. Caleb, son of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, in the autumn of 1640; married in Southold, 23 December, 1665 to Abigail Hallock, daughter of Peter Hallock, the Pilgrim. They settled at Cutchogue, Southold Township, L. I. He was accepted as a freeman of Connecticut, 1664. Land deeded to him by S. King the same year. In 1676 he is rated for 30 acres of land, 37 cattle, 5 horses, £282: | 10 Secoud Geueratiou,--/aseph /. He was admitted a freeman of Connecticut Colony in 1662. In 166; he witnessed a deed of Tucker and Brush to Mapes, He sold his house, and lot of four acres of land, to his father, Barnabas Horton, and also deeded land to John Youngs, in 1664, In 167 he was chosen one of the Selectmen of Rye, and about this time he is one of a Com- mmittee of three to procure a minister, In 167S he was a [ustice of the 1eace, and about this time he was a Lieutenant, and then a Captain of a Militia Company, and also authorized by the General Court to issue warrants, and to unite persons in holy matrimony, In 16go-'g1 he was devisee of his brother Benjamyin, and his brother [oshua was execu- tor, In r6gg he was chosen one of the vestrymen of the church, and in 6gg he was licensed to keep a public house of entertainment. In addition to all these dignities, he also filled the office of miller, and in this useful calling he was succeeded by several of his descendants, He had five sons and several daughters, only one of whom is mentioned. ( PAA %taore's ndexes gSautkala,'' aua ''Bara' istary gf kye,'' ew }aräA,) Children, all born at Southold, except feremiah, who was probably born at Rye: 1, Joscph, born about 1b54; marricd, perhaps, Mry IIallock. 2, John, born about 1656; married, perhaps, Snrh Vail. 3, Samuel, born abbout 16(S. 4. David, born about 1661. g, Abigail, born about 1663; married Roger Park, 6. Iercmiah, born about 1666. a. BENTANIN, son of Barnabas I., born in Mousely, England, 1637; came to this country with his father; married about r661 ANNA BUDD, daughter of John Budd I., and settled near his father, in Southold. He was a freeman of Connecticut Colony in 1664, deeds land to Christopher Youngs in 167o, and to Samuel King and others at various times. Anna, his wife, witnesses deeds in 1673, 168-8g, On r9 February, 1686, he makes his will, appointing his brother Joseph ddevisee and his brother Joshua executor, He moved to R ye about 1664, where he died, ; November, 6go, without issue, (Pie ''Afaore's /udexes gSauthola,'' pp. aa and a3.) a. CALE, son of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, in the autumn of r64o; married in Southold, :; December, 1665 to Abigail Hallock, danghter of Peter Hallock, the Pilgrim. They settled at Cutchogue, Southold Township, L. I, He was accepted as a freeman of Connecticut, 1664. Land deeded to him by S. King the same year. In 1676 he is rated for ;o acres of land, 37 cattle, ( horses, E28. |
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| Secon Generation.-Joshua I. Jonathan I. 11 and in 1683 his valuation was £350. In 1686 he has four males and six females in his family. He died 3d. October, 1702. His wife died in 1697. (See "Moore's Indexes of Southold.") Children, all born at Cutchogue: 1. Barnabas, born 23 September, 1666; married Sarah Hines. 2. Jonathan, born in 1668; married Bethia Conklin. 3. Nathan, born in 1670; died without offspring. 4. David, born, 1672; married Mary Horton, daughter of Jonathan Horton I. 5. Mary, born 1675; married Nathaniel Terry. 6. Hannah, married ensign John Booth, son of John Booth I. 7. Abigail, married David Booth, son of Charles Booth and Abigail Horton. 8. Esther. 9. Rachel, died unmarried. 10. Ruth. Second Generation.—Joshua I. IV. Joshua, son of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, L. I., in 1643; married, about 1667, Mary Tuthill. In 1673, '76, '78 and '95 he deeds land to various persons. In 1676 he is one of the patentees of Southold, and has six males and five females in his family. He is a Lieutenant in 1693. (See "Moore's Indexes of Southold" p. 88.) He died in Southold, 1729. His wife died 2 January, 1718. Children, all born in Southold: 1. Joshua, ensign, born 1669. 2. Joseph, born 1671; married. 3. Sarah, born 1673; married Richard Terry, son of Richard I. 4. Mary, born ; married 2 January, 1708, Zaccheus Goldsmith. 5. Bethia, born ; married in Jan., 1716, Ichabod Hallock. She died 1753. 6. Keziah or Zeruiah, married Israel Case. 7. Ephraim, born 1786; married, in 1707, Martha Vail. "In the old Colonial Records of Connecticut, Joshua speaks of 'his brother Caleb, 15 September, in the 28th year of the reign of Charles II.'"—S. T. Terry. Second Generation.—Jonathan I. V. Jonathan, youngest son of Barnabas I., born in Southold, L. I., 23d February, 1648; married about 1672 to Bethia Wells, daughter of William Wells, Esq., one of the original 13 settlers of Southold, about 1750. Jonathan resided with his father, and inherited the homestead. He was the first Captain of the first Company of Cavalry | '9uathan J. Second GGeneratien,- [5asktua J. A 11 and in 168; his valuation was f35o, In 1686 he has four males and six females in his family. He died ;d October, ;o2. His wife died in 1697. (See '' Aaore's /ndexes g'Soutbol.'') Children, all born at Cutchogue: lBarnabas, born 2; September, 1666; mnrried Sarah Hines, Jonathan, born in 166S ; married Bethia Conä/in, Nnthan, born in 167o; died without offspring. David, born, 1672; married Mary Horton, daughter of Jonathan oton l MIary, born 1675; married Nathaniel Terry, IInnnah, married ensign John Booth, son of ohn Dooth I. Abigail, married David Booth, son of Charles Booth nnd Abigail IIorton, Esther, g, Rachel, died unmarried. o, Ruth, Secoud GGeneration,- [Sasiua /. IV. JosHua, son of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, L. I., in 1643: married, about 1667, MawY TuTHnuu. In 1673, '76, '78 and 'gg he deeds land to various persons, In 676 he is one of the paten- tees of Southold, and has six males and five females in his family. He is a Lieutenant in r603. (See ''3faore's udexes gf Southola,'' p. 88.) He died in Southold, 1;:0. His wife died : January, 1;18. Children, all born in Southold : . Joshua, ensign, born 166g, Joseph, born 1671 ; married. Sarah, born 1673; married Richard Terry, son of Richnrd I. Mary, born ; married 2 January, 17oS, Zaccheus Goldsmith, Bethia, born ;married in Jan., 1716, Ichabod Hallock, She died 1753. Keziah or Zerniah, married Israel Cose, Ephraim, bon r6 ; married, in 1707, Martha Vail, lg\< - 'tIn the old Colonial Records of Connecticut, Joshua speaks of 'his brother Caleb, g September, in the 2Sth year of the reign of Charles II.' ''--S. 7. 2krry. Secoud GGeneraio,- 9aarha /. V. JoNATHAN, youngest son of Barnabas I., born in Southold, IL. I., j 23d February, r648; married about 67a to BETHA WELLs, daughter ] of Williarm Wells, Esq., one of the original 1; settlers of Southold, ] about 175o. Jonathan resided with his father, and inherited the ] homestead. He was the first Captain of the first Company of Cavalry |
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| Second Generation.-Hannah I. Sarah I. Mary I. 13 Hannah I. Hannah, daughter of Barnabas Horton I., born in Southold, about 1651; married, about 1670, Barnabas Terrill, son of Thomas Terrill. Children, all born at Southold: 1. Barnabas. 2. Richard. 3. Abigail. 4. Nicholas. 5. Catherine. 6. Mary. Sarah I. Sarah, daughter of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, about 1653; married, about 1670, Joseph Conklin, son of John Conklin, the Pilgrim, and born in Southold, about 1650. Children, all born at Southold: 1. Sarah. 2. Rachel. 3. Mary. 4. Joseph. 5. John. 6. Henry. 7. Thomas. 8. Elizabeth. Mary I. Mary, daughter of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, about 1655; married, about 1674, John Budd, son of John Budd, the Pilgrim. They moved from Southold to Rye, New York, about 1680. Children: John and Joseph, born in Southold; Jonathan and others, born in Rye. Mercy, daughter of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, about 1660; married, about 1678, Christopher Youngs, son of Col. John Youngs, grandson of Rev. John Youngs, the first pastor of the first church at Southold. Children, all born at Southold: 1. John, born 21 Oct., 1679. 2. Abram, born 1681. 3. Nathaniel, born 1683. Abigail, adopted daughter of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, about 1665; married, about 1690, Charles Booth, son of John Booth. She was probably the daughter of the second wife of Barnabas, by her first husband. Her father's name is not known. Children, born in Southold: 1. Charles, born 1691; married Mary ——, who died 13 April, 1774. 2. Abigail, born 1693; married Thomas Goldsmith. 3. David, born 1695; married, in 1717, Abigail Horton, daughter of Caleb I. | Secad Generatio,-//aah I. Sarak I. Afary /. 13 //anmah /. HANNAH, daughter of Ißarnabas Horton I., born in Southold, about 1651; married, about r67o, lßARNAAs TERRLL, son of Thomas Terrlll, Children, all born at Southäld: 1, Barnabbas, a. Richnrd. 3. Abigail. Sarah J. 4. Nicholas, s, Catherine. 6. Mary, SARAH, daughter of Barnabas Horton I., born at Southold, about 16532 married, about 167o, JosEPH CoNKIN, son of John Conklin, the Pilgrim, and born in Southold, about 165o. Children, all born at Southold : r, Sarah. 2. Rachel. 3. Mary, 4. Joseph. Afarm /. 5. Jobn. 6. Henry, 7. Thomas. S. Elizabbeth. NIARY, daughter of BARNABAs HoRToN I., born at Southold, about 1655, married, about 1674, JormN Bun, son of John Budd, the Pil- grim. They moved from Southold to Rye, New York, about 168o. Children : John and Joseph, born in Southold ; Jonathan nnd others, born in Rye, MIERcY, daughter of BaRNaBaS HoRToN I., born at Southold, about 166o; married, about 167S, CHRSToPHER YoUNGs, son of Col, ohn Youngs, grandson of Rev. Iohn Youngs, the first pastor of the first church at Southold. Children, all born at Southold : 1. John, born 21 Oct., 1679. 2, Abram, born 16S1, 3. Nnthaniel, born 16S;. ABIGAIL, adopted daughter of lßARNaBAs HORoN I., born at South- old, about 166g ; married, about 16go, CHARLEs BoOTH, son of John Booth. She was probably the daughter of the second wife of Barnabas, by her first husband, Her father's name is not known, Children, born in Southold : 1. Charles, born 16g1 ; married Miary -----, who died 3 April, 1774. a. Abigail, born 1603; married Tnomas Goldsmith. 3, David, born 1695; marred, in 1717, Abigail Horton, dnughter of Caleb I. |
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| 14 Third Generation.—Joseph I. I. Joseph, son of Joseph Horton and Jane Budd (Barnabas I.), born in Southold, about 1654. Moved with his father's family to Rye, Westchester County, N. Y., in 1664; married, perhaps, Mary Hallick, about 1678. Children all born in Rye: 1. Joseph, born in 1679. 2. John, born in 1631. 3. Benjamin, 4. Janetz, baptized in New York in 1696. (Moore's Indexes.) II. John, son of Joseph Horton and Jane Budd (Barnabas I.), born in Southold, about 1656. Married about 1680, perhaps, Sarah Vail. Moved with his father to Rye, N. Y. Was captain of a militia company in Rye, in 1700. Children all born in Rye: 1. John; married, perhaps, Mary Vail. 2. Joseph. 3. Jonathan. 4. Benjamin; married and had Joseph, Benjamin and others. 5. Hannah. IV. David, son of Joseph Horton and Jane Budd, born in Rye, 1664; married about 1688, perhaps, Esther King. Settled at White Plains, N. Y. Children probably all born at White Plains: 1. Joseph, born 1687; married Anna Howell. 2. Thomas, born 1690; married, perhaps, Mary Knapp, and had Thomas and others. 3. Daniel, born 23 April, 1692; married Esther Lane. 4. Samuel. 5. John. 6. Jeremiah. 7. Abigail. 8. Ambrose. Fourth Generation—Joseph I. I. Joseph, son of Joseph Horton and Mary Hallock (Joseph I.), born at Rye, in 1697; married about 1703, perhaps, Anna Howell. He was living in Rye, in 1722 and '23, and he probably died there. He had Joseph, born about 1705, and probably others of whom no record has been given. II. John, son of Joseph Horton and Mary Hallock, born at Rye, in 1681. He married and had family—John, born in Rye about 1707, is the only one found. I. Joseph, son of David Horton and Esther King (Joseph I.), born at Rye about 1689; married Anna Knapp. Moved to White Plains about 1725. Died in 1763. Children, probably, all born in Rye: 1. Joseph, born 1713. 2. Azariah. 4. Patience. 3. Phebe. 5. Hannah. | 14 7Arr Generatio,- 5seph J. I. IosePH, son of Joseph Horton and Jane Budd (Barna\&as /.), born in Southold, about 16S. Moved with his father's family to Rye, Westchester County, N. Y., in 1664; married, perhaps, MARY HaL- ucr, about 1678. Children all born in Rye : 1, Joseph, born in 167g. a, John, born in 163- s's 3, Benjamin, 4. Janet, baptized in New York in 1606. (Aoore's Indexes,) II. JoHN, son of Joseph Horton and Jane Budd (Darua\&s /.0), born in Southold, about 16g6. Married about 168o, perhaps, SaRAH VAn., Moved with his father to Rye, N. Y. Was captain of a militia com- pany in Rye, in r;oo. Children all born in Rye: . John ; married, perhaps, Mary Vall, a. Joseph. 3. Jonathan, 4, Benjamin; married and had Joseph, Benjamin and others, g, Hannah. IV. DAv, son of Joseph Horton and Jane Budd, born in Rye, 1664; married about 1688, perhaps, EsTHER KNa. Settled at White Plains, N. Y. Children probably all born at White Plains: 1. Joseph, born 16S7; married Anna Howell, 2. Thomas, born 16go; married, perhaps, Mary Knapp,and had Thomas and others, 2. Daniel, born 23 April, 1692; married Esther Lane. 4. Samuel. g, John. 6. Jeremiah. 7, Abigail, S. Ambrose. Fourth Geueration- [9aseph /. I. Josrr, son of Joseph Horton and Mary Hallock ( 54e/ /.), born at Rye, in 16g;; married about 1743, perhaps, ANNa HowELL. He was living in Rye, in 17z2 and 'a3, and he probably died there, HHe had Joseph, born about 17o5, and probably others of whom no record has been given, II. JoHN, son of Joseph Horton and Mary Hallock, born at Rye, in 168r, He marrled and had family-John, born in Rye about 1;o7, is the only one found. I. JosrrH, son of Daeid Horton and Esther King (5asepA J.), born at Rye about 1686 ; married ANNa KNAPP. MIoved to White Ilains about 7a5. Died in r63. Children, probably, all born in Rye: 1. Joseph, born 173. 2. Azariah. 3, Ihebe. a. Patience. g, Hannah. |
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| Fourth Generation—Joseph I. 15 II. Thomas, son of David Horton and Esther King, born at Rye, about 1691; married, perhaps, Mary Knapp, and probably moved to Rehoboth, Mass. Children all born in Rehoboth: 1. Thomas, born 1758, married Mary Hix. 2. Mary. 3. David. III. Daniel, son of David Horton and Esther King, born at White Plains, N. Y., 23 April, 1602; married about 1724, Esther Lane, born at Rye, 24 May, 1704. They settled at Yorktown, N. Y., about 1724. She died 18 April, 1769. He died 10 December, 1777. Children all born at Yorktown: 1. Daniel, born 1725. 2. Elizabeth; married —— Wright. 3. Rachel; married Daniel Wright. 4. Stephen, born 30 April, 1731; married 1. Sarah Owens. 2. Elizabeth Frost. 5. Esther; married —— Wright. 6. Phebe; married —— Knapp. 7. Milicent; married 1. Owens. 2. Lee. 8. William born 10 January, 1743; married Elizabeth Covert. V. John, son of David Horton and Esther King, born at White Plains, N. Y., about 1696; married, perhaps, Elizabeth Lee, and settled in Rye. He owned the mills at Horton's mill pond in Rye, from 1747 to 1769.—(See "Baird's History of Rye.") Children. 1. Richard, born 1721; married Jemima Wright. 2. John, born 1722; married Mary Frost. 3. David. 4. Daniel. Fifth Generation.—Joseph I. I. Daniel, son of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane (David, Joseph I.), born at Yorktown, West Chester Co., N. Y., about 1725; married about 1748, perhaps, Mary Corey, and moved to White Plains, N. Y. Children probably all born at White Plains: 1. Stephen, born about 1749; married Mary Wright. 3. Samuel. 4. George W., settled at City Island. 5. Anna; married Samuel Crawford, of White Plains. 6. David, born 4 August, 1860; married Sabra Wheeler. 7. Margaret, born 1763. III. Rachel, daughter of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane, born at Yorktown, N. Y., about 1730; married Daniel Wright. Children all born at Yorktown: 1. Daniel, born 1751. 2. Sarah; married Frost. 3. Hannah. 4. Esther, born 1761; married Enoch Knapp. 5. Micajah. 6. Frances; married Field. 7. James. 8. Milicent; married Beadle. 9. Rachel; married Field. 10. Phebe; married Howland. | Faurh Geueration,-/asp /. 15 a, THoMAs, son of David Horton and Esther King, born at Rye, about 16g ; married, perhhaps, MARY KNaPP, and probably moved to Rehoboth, Mass, Children all born in Rehoboth: 1, Thomas, born 175S, married Mary Hix, 2, Mary, 3. Dnvid. III. DANEL, son of David Horton and Esther King, born at White Plains, N. Y., 23 April, 16o:; married about ;a4, EsrHER LaNE, born at Rye, z4 May, 7o4. They settled at Yorktown, N. Y., about 7:4. She died 18 April, 176g. He died o December, 777. Children all born at Yorktown : 1. Daniel, born 1725. 2. Elizabeth; married -- Wright. 3. Rachel; mnrried Dnniel Wright. 4. Stephen, born 3o April, 173; married , Sarah Owens, 2, Elizabeth Frost. g. Esther; married -- Wright, 6. Phebe; married -- Knapp. 7. Milicent; married 1, Owens, 2. Lee. 8. William born 1o January, 743; : married Elizabeth Covert, V. JoHN, son of David Horton and Esther King, born at White Plains, N. Y., about 16g6 ; married, perhaps, ELzaBErH LEE, and settled in Rye. He owned the mills at Horton's mill pond in Rye, from 1747 to 1;6g,-(See ''Bara' Iistory gf Rye,'') Children. 1. Richard, born 72; married Jemima Wright, 2, John, born 722; mnrried Mnry Frosi. 2 Dnvil. 4. Daniel F/h Generation.-/ese J. u DaNEL,son of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane (David, /asp /), born at Yorktown, West Chester Co,, N. Y., about ;25; married about 1748, perhaps, MaRY COREy, and moved to White Plains, N. Y. Children probably all born at White Plains : 1. Stephen, born about 1749; married MInnry Wright. 3. Samuel, y, George W., setled at City Island. 5, Anna; married Samuel Crawford, of White Plains, 6. Davil, born 4 August, 186o; married Snbr Wheeler, 7. Margaret, born 1763. . RACHEL, daughter of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane, born at Yorktown, N. Y., about ;;o; married DANEL WRGHT. Children all born at Yorktown : . Daniel, born 1751. 2, Snrah ; married Frost, . Hannah. y, Esther, born 176; married Enoch Knapp. 5, Micnjah, 6. Frances; married Field. 7, James, S, Milicent; married Beadle g, Rachel; married Field, o, Phebe ; married Howlnd. |
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| 16 Fourth Generation—Joseph I. IV. Stephen, son of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane, born at Yorktown, 30 April, 1731; married 24 December, 1758, Sarah Owens, born 19 November, 1737. Died 27 October, 1772. He married second, 29 December, 1773, Elizabeth Frost, born 24 February, 1741. Died 20 May, 1825. He died 7 December, 1814. Children all born at Yorktown: 1. Joseph, born 24 August, 1759; married Mary Beedle; he died in June, 1813. 2. Hannah, born 12 January, 1761; married 23 December, 1782; died 30 October, 1827. 4. Elizabeth, born 23 October, 1764; married 25 November, 1787, William Beedle. 5. Caleb, born 3 November, 1766; died 11 February, 1771. 6. Sarah, born 18 November, 1769; died 20 September, 1771. By second wife: 7. Caleb, born 25 September, 1774; married 22 January, 1800, Sarah Field; died 26 May, 1849. 8. Wright, born 22 May, 1776; married, 28 November, 1798, Anna Quereau. 9. Jacob, born 19 February 1779; married 17 June 1802; died 15 July, 1808. 10. Sarah, born 11 March, 1781; married 10 July, 1824, Joseph Lee; died 20 October, 1858. VIII. Hon. William, son of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane, born at Yorktown, 10 January, 1743. In 1768, he married Lizzie (Elizabeth) Covert, an accomplished and amiable lady of French descent, who was born 9 January, 1743. He removed from the town of Sommers, formerly Stephentown, to Colchester, Delaware Co., N. Y., in 1789. He was a tanner and currier by trade, and he tanned the first leather that was ever manufactured in Delaware Co. He purchased large tracts of lands, built saw-mills and grist-mills, and carried on a large business in the manufacture and sale of lumber and provisions, as well as of leather. He was a healthy, muscular man. His father died when he was sixteen, and he then for a while lived with his brother Stephen. He was a man of sound judgment, and capable of enduring much hardship. Colchester was an unbroken wilderness when he settled there, but by his influence and great business capacity, it was soon settled by an enterprising and industrious people, and the wilderness was soon turned into well cultivated and productive fields. He was a very prominent citizen among them. He was a Justice of the Peace for many years, and in 1794, he was sent to the Legislature, and about this time he was President Judge of Ulster Co., Ulster and Delaware being then one county. He and his wife were both worthy and active members of the Baptist Church, and they trained up their children to fear the Lord and keep his commandments. He died suddenly in 1831, at the age of eighty-eight years, respected and lamented, not only by his numerous friends | 16 //h Geueraziou.-- '5aep . IV. STEPHEN, son of David Horton and Esther Lane, born at York- town, 3o Npril, 173 : married 2) Decemler, 1758, SaRaH OwENs, born g November, 1737. Died 27 October, 1772. He married sec- ond, z0 Decemmber, 1773, ELzAnETH FROST, born 24 February, 174. Died o May, 182s. He died 7 Decemler, 1814. Children all born at Yorktown : . Jo-eph, born z4 August; 759: married NIary lleedle ; he died m June, S14, a. IIannah, porn 12 January, 175; married 23 December, 17S2; died o October, 1S7. 4; Eliznbeth, born 23 October, 1764; married 2; November, 17S7, William Becdle. g, Calel, horn ; Novemler, 1766; died 1 February, 1771, 6, Sarah, born 1S November, 176g; died 2o September, 1771, lBy second wife: p Caleb, born z5 September, 1774; mrried 22 January, Soo, Sarah Field ; died 26 May, 184g. 8 Wright, born zz May, 1776; married, 28 November, 1798,Annn Ohereau. 9. Jacob, born g February 177g; rmarried 17 Iune 8o2; died 1g July, rSo. ro Sarah, born MIarch, 17S1; married o July, 18a4, Joseph Lee; died ao October, 1S5S. VIII. HoN. WLLAm, son of Daniel Horton and Esther Lane, born at Yorktown, 1o January, 1743. In 1;68, he married LzzE (ELzA- nETHD7 CovERT, an accomplished and amiable lady of French descent, who was born g January, 743. He remmmoved from the town of Sommers, formerly Stephentown, to Colchester, Delaware Co,, N. Y., in r;Sg. He was a tanner and cuurrier by trade, and he tanned the first leather that was ever manufactured in Delaware Co, He pur- chased large tracts of lands, built saw-mills and grist-mills, and carried on a large business in the manufacture and sale of lumber and provisions, as well as of leather. He was a healthy, muscular man, His father died when he was sixteen, and he then for a while lived with his brother Stephen, He was a man of sound judgment, and capable of enduring much hardship. Colchester was an unbroken wilderness when he settled there, but by his influence and great business capacity, it was soon settled by an enterprising and industrious people, and the wildness was soon turned into well cultivated and productive fields, HIe was a very prominent citizen among them, He was a [ustice of the Peace for many years, and in 1704, he was sent to the Legislature, and about this time he was President ]udge of Ulster Uo,, Ulster and JDelaware being then one county, He and his wife were both worthy and active members of the Baptist Church, and they trained up their children to fear the Lord and keeppp his commandments, He died suddenly in 1831, at the age of eighty- eight years, respected and lamented, not only by his numerous friends |
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| Fifth Generation.—Joseph I. 17 and relatives, but by the whole community. His wife survived him but two weeks. Children all born in Sommers: 1. John, born in 1769; married Sallie Hagan. 2. Henry, born 7 November, 1771; married Abigail Cook. 3. James, born 23 January, 1773; married Martha White. 4. Sarah, born in 1775; married Jacob Radaker. 5. Micajah, born in 1777; married Hannah Williams. 6. Isaac, born 13 April, 1780; married Prudence Knapp. 7. Hattie, born in 1783; married John Radaker. I. Thomas, son of Thomas Horton and Mary Knapp (David, Joseph I.), born, probably, at Rehoboth, Mass., 1784; married Mary Hix. Moved to New Lebanon, N. Y., and afterwards to Duchess Co., N. Y. Children: 1. John Hix, born in New Lebanon, 1792; married Sarah Bannister. 2. Thomas, born in 1774; married Mary Wright. 3. Joseph. 4. Phebe. 5. Elizabeth. 6. Patience. 7. Stephen, born in Marnacaton, Duchess Co., N. Y., 10 May, 1791; married Susan Hyatt. I. Richard, son of John Horton and Elizabeth Lee (David, Joseph I.), born at White Plains; married, perhaps Jemima Wright, and moved to Peekskill. Children, probably, all born at Peekskill: 1. Elijah, born 7 August, 1839; married Jemima Currie. 2. George. 3. William. 4. Richard. II. John, son of John Horton and Elizabeth Lee, born at White Plains, about 1718; married, about 1742, perhaps, Mary Frost, and moved to Philipstown, now Putnam Valley, Putnam Co., N. Y., about 1760. Children, probably, all born at White Plains: 1. John, born 17 November, 1746; married perhaps, Sarah Lane. 2. Richard. 3. Jesse. 4. David. 5. Joseph. 6. Sarah. 7. Phebe. Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. I. Elijah, son of Richard Horton and Jemima Wright (John, David, Joseph I.), born in Peekskill, N. Y., 7 August, 1739; married about 1762, Jemima Currie, born 6 July, 1744, probably in Peekskill. They moved from Peekskill to Stroudsburg, Pa., about 1780, and pur- | F/h Gencration,- [92sNA J. 1 and relatives, but by the whole community, His wife survived him but two weeks, Children nll born in Sommxers: . John, 2, IIenry, 3. James, 4. Sarah, born in 1760; married Sallie Ilagan. born 7 November, 177; married Abigail Cook. bon z3 Januay, 773; married Mnnrhhn White. born in 1775; married Iacols Radaker. g, Micajh, born in 1777: married IIannnh Willims, 6. Iaac, born 13 April, 17So; married Prudence Knapp. 7. Hattie, born in 17S3; married John Radaker, I. THoMAs, son of Thomas Horton and Mary Knapp (David, 5sep J.), born, probably, at Rehoboth, Mass., 78); married MaY H1S. Moved to New Lebanon, N. Y., and afterwards to Duchess Co., N. Y. Children: 1. Iohn Hix, born in New Lebanon, 1792; married Sarah Bannister, 2, Thomas, born in 1774; married Mary Wright. 3, Joseph. 4, Phebe. s, Elizabeth. 6. Pa- tience. 7, Stephen, born in Marnacaton, Duchess Co,, N. Y., o May, 1791; married Susan IIyatt, I. RenuaRD, son of John Horton and Elizabeth Lee (David, Jarp J.), born at White Plains ; married, perhaps [EMNA WRGHT, and moved to Peekskill. Children, probably, all born at Peekskill: 1, Elijnh, born 7 August, S39; married Iemima Currie, z, George, 3, William. 4, Richard. II. JoHN, son of John Horton and Elizabeth Lee, born at White Plains, about 718; married, about 174a, perhaps, MLRY FROs, and moved to Philipstown, now Putnam Valley, Putnam) Co,, - -, about 1;6o. Children, probably, all born at White Plains: 1, John, born 17 November, 1746; married perhaps, Sarah LLane, 2. Richnrd 3 Je88e, 4, David. 5, J-eph, 6. Sarah. 7. Phebe, SYh Geuerarion,- 52seph /. I. ELTaH,son of Richard Horton and Jemima Wright(/au, bavid, /esz4 J.), born in Peekskill, N. Y., ; August, 739; married about 1762, JEMmA CURRE, born 6 July, 1744, probably in Peekskill. They moved from Peekskill to Stroudsburg, fa., about 17So, and pur- |
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| 18 Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. chased a farm of Jacob Stroud, for which he was to pay in continental money, of which he had enough to pay down for the farm, but Stroud kept putting off making the deed until his money had so much depreciated that he could not pay for it, and Stroud kept the land. He then settled, for a time, in Middlesmithfield, Pa., but about 1789, he came to Sheshequin, Bradford Co., Pa., and took up land where Edward Brigham now resides, and here he spent the balance of his days. He and his wife were members of the Baptist Church. He died 14 August, 1821. She died 11 March, 1825. They were both buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. Children all born in Peekskill: 1. Richard, born about 1766; married Tabitha Jayne. 2. Elijah M., born 9 June, 1768; married 1. Pamela Ogden. 2. Abigail Bullard. 3. Joshua, born 7 October, 1774; married 1. Lucy Thompson. 2. Lucinda Ellis. 3. Phebe Goodsell. 4. Isaac, born about 1778; married 1. Sally Smith. 2. Laura Stevens. 5. Gilbert, born about 1782; married —— Beardsley. 6 Stephen, born about 1786; married Susan Mayhew. 7. William, born 14 May, 1789; married Esther Cowell. There were probably some daughters in this family, but we have no knowledge of any. If there were any, they never came to Bradford County. II. George, son of Richard Horton and Jemima Wright, born in Peekskill, N. Y., about 1741; married Elsie Shoemaker. Children, probably, all born in Peekskill,—all are now (1875) dead: 1. Anna; married Dunham. 2. Elizabeth; married Taylor. 3. Daniel; unmarried. 4. Esther; married Moses Cortwright. 5. Eleanor; married Cornelius De Witt. 6. Jane Depuy; married Evans. 7. George Cummins; married Hannah Cortwright. 8. Benjamin; married Jane Savage. III. William, son of Richard Horton and Jemima Wright, born in Peekskill. No record of marriage or family has been given. Tradition says that he was a man of uncommon physical powers. In wrestling and prize-fighting he was never known to be beaten. At one time, it is said, a prize-fighter known as the "Boston Bully," came all the way from Boston to Peekskill to whip Billy Horton. It was in | 18 SYh Generatian- 5asep J. chased a farm of [acob Stroud, for which he was to pay in continental money, of which he had enough to pay down for the farm, but Stroud kept putting off making the deed until his money had so much depre- ciated that he could not pay for it, and Stroud kept the land. He then settled, for a time, in Middlesmithfield, Pa., but about 1789, he camye to Sheshequin, Bradford Co., Fa, and took up land where Edward Brigham now resides, and here he spent the balance of his days, He and his wife were members of the Baptist Church. He died 4 August, 182. She died 1 March, 182g. They were both buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. Children all born in Peekskill: 1. Richard, born about 1766; married Tabitha [ayne. a. Elizabbeh M., born g une, 1768; married 1, Iamella Ogden, z, Abigail Bullard. 3. Joshua, born 7 October, 1774; married 1. Lucy Thompson. 2. Lucinda Ellis, 2. Phebe Goodell, 1. Isaac, born about 177S; married 1, Sally Smith. 2, Laura Stevens. g, Gilhert, born about 17S2; married Beardsley, 6 Stephen, bon about 17S6; maried Susan MIayhew. 7. William, born 4 May, 17S9; married Esther Cowell, There were probably some daughters in this family, but we have no knowledge of any, If there were any, they never came to Bradford County. II. GEoRGE, son of Richard Horton and /eniw:a IfY2h, born in Peekskill, -. ., about 1741 ; married ELsE SHOENuAKER. Children, probably, all born in Peekskill,--all are now (1875) dead: 1. Anna; a, Elizabeth; 3. Daniel; 4, Esther ; g, Eleanor ; 6. Jane Depuy; married Dunham. married Taylor. unmarried. married Moes Cortwright. married Cornelius De Witt, married Evans, 7. George Cummmins; maried Hnnnnnh Cortwright, S. 1lenjamin; married Iane Savage- IUII. WLuAN, son of Richard Horton and Jemima Wright, born in Peekskill. No record of marriage or family has been given. Tradition says that he was a man of uncommon physical powers, In wrestling and prize-fighting he was never known to be beaten, At one time, it is said, a prize-fighter known as the ''Boston Bully,'' came all the way from Boston to Peekskill to whip Bully Horton, It was in |
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| Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. 19 cold weather, and Horton at first declined to fight. But he was called a coward, and this he would not stand, and then the seconds were chosen, and the fight began, Horton came off victorious, the Boston man being so severely handled that it was several weeks before he was able to return home. He was kindly cared for by Horton until he was able to return. John Horton, of Philipstown, now Putnam Valley, N. Y., son of John Horton and Mary Frost (John, David, Joseph I.), born at White Plains, N. Y., 17 November, 1746. Went to Philipstown with his father about 1760; married 2 April, 1768, to Sarah Lane, in Philipstown. She died 16 September, 1773, probably without issue, April 4, 1775. He married Sarah Lee, born 30 November, 1751. They settled permanently at Philipstown, and lived to a good old age, he dying in 1830, and she soon after him. Children, all born at Philipstown: 1. John, born 31 December, 1775; died 30 September, 1776. 2. Jesse, born 29 January, 1777; married. 3. Sarah P., born 4 August, 1778; died 6 August, 1785. 4. Hannah, born 9 November, 1780; married 3 January, 1799, to John Bryant. 5. David, born 18 July, 1782. 6. Tamar, born 5 February, 1784; married Joshua Smith. 7. Lee, born 11 July, 1785. 8. Israel, born 15 December, 1786; married Nancy Hills. 9. Samuel, born 3 May, 1788. 10. John, born 23 March, 1790. 11. Isaiah, born 15 August, 1791. 12. Phebe, born 25 December, 1792. I. Stephen, son of Daniel Horton and Mary Corey (Daniel, David, Joseph II.), born, probably at Yorktown, New York, in 1750; married, about 1771, to Mary Wright; moved to White Plains. Children, probably born at White Plains: 1. David, lived at Yonkers, New York. 2. Benjamin, " " " 3. Joseph, settled in Claverack, Columbia County, New York. II. Daniel, son of Daniel Horton and Mary Corey, born at Yorktown, about 1753; married. Children, probably born at White Plains: 1. Daniel, born 22 February, 1776; married Anne Strong. VI. David, son of Daniel Horton and Mary Corey, born, probably, at Yorktown, 4 August, 1760; married, in 1784, Sabra Wheeler, | Sh GGeneratiou,-- 5aseph J. 19 cold weather, and Horton at first declined to fight. But he was called a coward, and this he would not stand, and then the seconds were chosen, and the fight began, Horton came off victorious, the Boston man being so severely hhandled that it was several weeks before he was able to return home, He was kindly cared for by Horton until he was able to return, JoHN HoRToN, of Philipstown, now Putnam Valley, N. Y., son of John Horton and Mary Frost (9n, Darid, 5ao/ /), born at White Plains, N. Y., 1; November, 1746. Went to Philipstown with his father about r76o; married 2 April, 1768, to SaRAH LANE, in Philipstown. She died 16 September, 1773, probably without issue, April 4, 1775. He married SARAH LEE, born 3o November, 751. They settled permanently at Philipstown, and lived to a good old age, he dying in 183o, and she soon after him. Children, all born at Philipstown : . Jobn, a. Jese, 3. Sarah P., 4, Hannah, s, David, 6. Tamar, 7. Lee, S. Israel, 9. Samuel, born 31 December, t775; died ;o September, 1776. born 29 JAnuary, 1777; married. born 4 Augvst, 177S; died 6 August, t785, born g November, 17So; married 3 Ianuary, 1799, to John Bryant. born 1S July, 17S2, born g February, 17S4; married Joshua Smith. born 1 July, 7S5, born 1s December, 17S6; married Nancy Hills, born 2 May, 17SS. 1o. Jobn, born z; Mnrch, 179o. 1, Isaiah, born 15 August, 79. 12, Phebe, born z5 December, 794. II. STEPHEN, son of Daniel Horton and Mary Carey (Daniel, Davia, /esp\& //.), born, probably at Yorktown, New York, in r75o4 married, about 771, to Mary W7ght; moved to White Plains, Children, probably born at White Plains: . David, lived at Vonkers, New York. 2, Benjamin, '' 3. Joseph, settled in Claverack, Columbia County, New York, II. DaNEL, son of Daniel Horton and Mary Corey, born at York- town, about 7533 married. Children, probably born at White Plains : 1, Daniel, born za February, 1776; married Anne Strong. VI. Davn, son of Daniel Horton and Mary Corey, born, probably, at Yorktown, 4 August, r76o; married, in r784, SABRA WHEELER, |
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| 20 Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. born 11 May, 1766. They both died at Yorktown: he, 14 July, 1829, she, 20 July, 1831. Children, born at Yorktown: 1. Platt, born 10 September, 1785; died 31 January, 1865. 2. Rhoda, born 1 April, 1787; died 14 January, 1859. 3. Amos, born 6 February, 1789; died 12 June, 1858. 4. David, born 29 October, 1790; died 21 January, 1758. 5. George, born 20 September, 1792; died 14 April, 1872. 6. Pearce, born 5 December, 1794; married Hannah Peak. 7. Peleg, born 23 February, 1797; died 2 April, 1834. 8. Leonard, born 2 November, 1798; died 17 February, 1858. 9. Alvor, born 2 November, 1800; died 24 December, 1871. 10. Mazor L., born 27 July, 1802. 11. Treuman, born 3 April, 1804; died 3 October, 1871. 12. Henry, born 15 April, 1808; died 12 December, 1872. I. John, son of Hon. William Horton and Elizabeth Covert (Daniel, David, Joseph I.), born at Somers, New York, in 1770; married, in 1792, Sarah Hagar, born in Scoharrie County, New York, June, 1774. He died 28 October, 1828. She died 31 July, 1849, at Colchester, New York. Children, probably all born at Colchester: 1. Daniel, born 17 February, 1793; died 29 January, 1861. 2. Peter, born 28 August, 1795; died 28 August, 1796. 3. David, born 23 August, 1797. 4. Peter, born 3 July, 1800. 5. Mary, born 7 February, 1803. 6. Samuel McCrea, born 28 June, 1805; died 28 April, 1829. 7. Elizabeth, born 16 June, 1807. 8. Col. Enoch, born 7 March, 1811. 9. Cornelia, born 5 July, 1813. 10. Geo. W. P., born 6 February, 1816; married Julia E. Carpenter. 11. Benjamin, born 24 July, 1818. Sarah Hagar was the daughter of Capt. Peter Hagar, who commanded the upper Fort in Scoharrie County, in the Revolutionary War. He and his family were in the Fort three months. He was a man of firmness, and highly respected. John Horton was a worthy man, a good citizen, taken away in the midst of his usefulness. He and his family were always much respected. II. Henry, son of the Hon. William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, New York, 7 November, 1771; married at Col- | 20 S Geaerarionn,- '9asep I. born May, 1766. 'They both died at Yorktown: he, 14 July, 1829, she, :o July,r83. Children, born at Yorktown: 1. latt, bborn o September, 17S5; died 31 January, 1S65. sz. Rhodn, bom April, 17S7; died 4 January, t859. ' 3. Amos, born 6 Felruary, 7Sg; died 2 June, 1SgS. 4, 1David, born zg October, 17go; died 2 Janunry, 758. s. George, born 2o September, 179z; died 4 April, 1S7z. G. Pearce, born g December, 794; married Hannah Peak, 7. Peleg, born 2; February, 1797, died z April, 1834. S. Leonard, born z November, 17gS ; died 1; Febbruary, 18g8. g. Alvor, born 2 November, 1Soo; died 24 December, 1871. 1o, Mazor L., born 27 July, 1So2, 1. TTreuman, born 3 April, 1Soy; died 2 October, 1S71. 12. Iienry, born 15 April, 1SoS ; died 12 December, 1872. I. JoHN, son of Hon. WIlliam Horton and Elizabeth Covert (Danie/, Daid, /ep /.), born at Somers, New York, in 77o; married, in 179a, SARAH HAGAR, born in Scoharrie County, New York, June, 1774. He died a8 October, 188. She died 3 July, 1840, at Colchester, New York. Children, probably all born at Colchester : 1, Daniel, born 17 February, 1793; died 20 January, 1S6. a. Ieter, hon 28 Augus4 795; died 28 August, 1796. 3. David, !worn z3 Avgu-t, 1797. 4. 'eter, bom 3 July, 1Soo, s, Mary, born 7 February, 1So3. 6. Sammel McCea, horn 2S June, 1Sog; died 28 April, 1826. 7. Eliznbeth, born 16 June, 1So7. S. Col. Enoch, born 7 Narch, 181. 9. Conelia,' orn s ]aly, 1813. 1o. Geo, W. I'., born 6 Februnry, 1S16; married Julia E, Cnrpenter. 1 . Veniamin, born 2; July, 1S1S. Sarah Hagar was the daughter of Capt. Peter Hagar, who com- manded the upper Fort in Scoharrie County, in the Revolutionary WVnnr, He and his family were in the Fort three months. He was a man of firmness, and highly respected. John Horton was a worthy man, 4 good citizen, taken away in the midst of his usefulness, He and his family were always much respected, II. HrNRY, son of the Hon, Williamy Horton and I,izzie Covert, born at Sommers, New York, 7 Novembber, 771; married at Col- |
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| Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. 21 chester, New York, by Elder Woolsey, 10 March, 1792, to Abigail Cook, born in Duchess County, New York, 4 July, 1774. They were both worthy members of the Baptist Church. Children, all born at Colchester, except Susan Cook and Henry, who were born at Point Salubrious, Jefferson County, New York: 1. Phebe, born 27 December, 1794; married Daniel Robbins. 2. William Cook, born 2 December, 1796. 3. Eliza, born December, 1799; married Ralph W. Rogers. 4. Stephen, born 1 October, 1801. 5. John Todd, born 29 September, 1803; married Emeline Smith. 6. Le Roy De, born 10 November, 1805; married Jane Reynolds. 7. Samuel McCrea, born 14 October, 1807. 8. Jacob R., born 22 October, 1809. 9. Susan Olive, born 29 December, 1811; married Noah Dunham. 10. Henry, born 12 April, 1814; married Sarah P. Dunham. Henry Horton and family moved to Point Salubrious in the Autumn of 1809 and settled there. He died 4 February, 1855. Date of his wife's death is unknown. Both buried at Point Salubrious. III. James, son of Hon. William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, New York, 23 January, 1773; was married 15 May, 1800, to Martha White, born at White Plains, 17 March, 1775. She died 16 July, 1862, aged 87. He was about sixteen years of age when his father moved to Colchester, Delaware County, New York, where he endured the hardships and privations incident to a frontier settlement. In 1806 he moved from Colchester to Chaumont, Jefferson Co., New York, then a dense forest. He settled permanently on Point Salubrious, being the first family of white people who ever settled there. Here he was again exposed to hardships, causing continued ill health, until his death, which occurred on 5th November, 1833. He and his wife were members of the Baptist Church. He was a warm supporter of religion and a lover of good order in society, which he always labored zealously and successfully to promote. He was temperate in his habits and exemplary in his character. He never disgraced the name he bore, and his virtues are worthy of imitation by all his posterity. He and his elder brother Henry settled near each other on Point Salubrious, which is a neck of land running out about four miles into Chamount Bay. Here they took up farms, had fine fishing grounds, and raised large families.—Letter of Van Rantz Horton. | Sirh Geeratio,- 5,se I. 21 chhester, New York, by Elder Woolsey, o March, 1762, to Ama. Coor, born in Duchess County, New York, 4 July, 1774. They were both worthy members of the Baptist Church. Children, all born at Colchester, except Susan Cook nnd Henry, who were born at Point Salubrious, Jefferson County, New York: 1. Phebe, born 27 December, 794; married Dnniel Robbins, zz. Willam Cook, born 2 December, 17g6. ;. Eliza, born December, 790; married Rnlph W. Rogers. 1. Stephen, horn October, 1So1,' s, John Todd, born zg September, 1So3; married Emeline Smith. 6. Le Roy De, born o November, 18o5; mared Jane Reynolds, 7. Samuel McCrea, born q October, 1So7. S. [acob R., born 22 October, 1Sog. g. Susnn Olive, born z0 December, 1S11; married Nonh Dunham. o, Henry, born 12 April, 1St4; married Snrah P. Dunham. Henry Horton and family moved to Point Salubrious in the Autumn of 18og and settled there. He died 4 February, r85s. Date of his wife's death is unknown, Both buried at Point Salubrious, III. [aMEs, son of Hon, William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, New York, a3 January, 1773; was married 1g May, 18oo, to MawrHa WHrrE, born at White Plains, 1; March, 1775. She died 16 July, 186a, aged 87. He was about sixteen years of age when his father moved to Col- chester, Delaware County, New York, where he endured the hard- ships and privations incident to a frontier settlement. In 18o6 he moved from Colchester to Chaumont, Jefferson Co., New York, then a dense forest, He settled permanently on Point Salubrious, being the first family of white people who ever settled there. Here he was again exposed to hardships, causing continued ill health, until his death, which occurred on gth November, 1833. He and his wife were members of the Baptist Church. He was a warm supporter of religion and a lover of good order in society, which he always labored zealously and successfully to promote, He was temperate in his habits and ex- emplary in his character. . He never disgraced the name he bore, and his virtues are worthy of imitation by all his posterity, He and his elder brother Henry settled near each other on Point Salubrious, which is a neck of land running out about four miles into Chamount Bay. Here they took up farms, had fine fishing grounds, and raised large families,-Letter af Pas Ranra Eorzo, |
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| 22 Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. Children: 1. John White, born 12 October, 1802; married Candace L. Fox. 2. George, born 31 March, 1804; married Sabra Mills. 3. Ann Caroline, born 13 June, 1806; married Benjamin Ryder. 4. Valiant McCrea, born 14 May, 1808; married Delia M. Cook. 5. James I., born 18 March, 1810; married Lucy Hubbard. 6. Cornelius W. Van Rantz, born 31 January, 1812; married Emeline E. Dickerson. 7. William Henry, born 24 June, 1814; married Hattie Wright. 8. Sarah Maria, born 10 August, 1817; unmarried. IV. Sarah, daughter of Hon. William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born in Westchester County, New York, in 1775; married Jacob Radaker. Children: 1. Betsy, married —— Bliss. 2. Elbridge. 3. Armina, married David Horton. 4. John. 5. Barney. 6. Sylvia, married Charles Knapp. 7. William Horton. 8. Hannah, married —— Campbell. 9. Henry J. 10. Perry. 11. Esther, married —— Boggatt. 12 and 13. Elmeda and Elmira, twins; 12. married Peter Radaker, 13. married —— Wilson. They probably settled in Colchester and died there. V. Maj. Micajah, son of Hon. William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, New York, 22 May, 1777; married in Colchester in 1800, to Hannah Williams, born in Norwich, Massachusetts, 15 September, 1773; died at Mason, Ingham County, Michigan, 1 September, 1868. He died at Colchester, 5 February, 1829. He was a volunteer in the war of 1812–15, and bore the commission of a Major. Children, all born at Colchester: 1. Amanda, born 15 December, 1801; married Moore; died about 1850. 2. Wright, born 24 April, 1803; resides in Howard County, Kansas. 3. Isaac Williams, born 10 October, 1805; married Adah Washburn. 4. Martha, born 29 April, 1807; died at Mason, Michigan, 10 August, 1857. 5. James, born 4 April, 1809; died 12 May, 1809. 6. and 7. William and Elizabeth, twins, born 17 February, 1811. 8. Debora Ann, born 5 March, 1813; resides at Mason, Michigan. 9. Esther, born 27 December, 1814; married John Radaker; resides at Mason, Michigan, and has Sophia, who married Isaac Miller. 10. Peter Williams, born 9 September, 1816; died at Colchester, April, 1843. VI. Isaac, son of the Hon. William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, 13 April, 1780; married at Colchester, 1 January, 1807, by Elder Woolsey, to Prudence Knapp, daughter of Enoch Knapp and Esther Wright, and born in June, 1787. | 4)-) Children: SYi Generaion,-5seph /. 1. Iohn White, born 12 Octoler, 1So2; married Candace L. Fox. 2. George, born 1 March, 1So4; married Snlrn Mills. 3. Ann Caroline, born 3 Juune, 1Sof ; marred Beniamin Ryder, 4. Valiant McCrea, born 4 Mny, 1SoS; mrried Delia M. Cook, 5. James I., born r8 MIarch, 1So; married Lucy Hullard. 6. Cornelius W. Van Rantz, born 3 Jnuary, 1S2; married Emeline E. Dickerson, y. Willinm Henry, born a4 June, 184; married Hattie Wright. S. Snrah Ma ia, born o August, 1S17; unmarried. IV. SARAH, daughter of Hon, William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born in Westchester County, New York, in 1775 ; mmarried [AcoE RADARER. Children: 1, Betsy, aarried --- Bliss, 2. Elbridge. 3, Armina, married Dnvid Horton, 4. John. (, Barney, 6. Sylvia, married Charles Knapp. 7. William Horton, S. Hnnnah, married --- Carnpbell, g, Henry [. o. Perry, 1, Esther, married -- Boggatt. 2 and 12. Elmeda and Elmira, twins; 12, married Peter Radaker, 13, married -- Wilson. They probably settled in Colchester and died there. V. MIA1. MeaAH, son of Hon, William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, New York, 2 May, 1777; married in Colchester in r8oo, to HANNAH WLLANS, born in Norwich, Massachusetts, 1g Sep- tember, 1773 died at Mason, Ingham County, Michigan, 1 Septem- ber, 1868. He died at Colchester, g February, 18. He was a volunteer in the war of 1812=15, and bore the commission of a Major. Children, all born at Colchester: 1. Amanda, born g December, 1So1 ; married Moore ; died about 1Sgo. a. Wright, born a4 April, 1So3; resides in Howard County, Kansas, 3. Isaac Williams, born 1o October, 1So5; married Adah Washburn. 4. Martha, born 29 April, 1So7; died at Mason, Michigan, 1o August, 1857. 5. James, bom 4 April, 1So0; died 2 May, 18og. 6. and 7. William and Elizabeth, twins, bon 17 February, S11. S. Debora Ann, born g March, 1813; resides at Mason, Michigan. g. Esther, born 27 December, 1S14; married John Radaker; resides at Mason, Michigan,and has Sophia, who married Isaac Miller, 1o. Peter Williams, born g September, 1S16; died at Colchester, April, 1843, VI. IsaAc, son of the Hon. William Horton and Lizzie Covert, born at Sommers, 13 April, 1;8o; married at Colchester, 1 January, 18o7, by Elder Woolsey, to PRUDENcE ENAPr, daughter of Enoch Knapp and Esther Wright, and born in June, 1787. |
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| Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. 23 Children, all born at Colchester, except Emily, born at Liberty, Sullivan County, New York. 1. Homer, born 28 June, 1809; married Jane Davidge. 2. Ray, born 8 April, 1811; married Martha A. Radaker, and has Agnes. 3. James, born 5 June, 1813; married 1. Elizabeth Krimer, 2. Eliza Ann Clements. 4. Charles, born 25 February, 1815; married Betsey Grant. 5. Esther, born 4 August, 1817; married Nathaniel Gildersleeve. 6. Clarissa, born 11 May, 1819; married John C. Smith. 7. Ovid, born 7 May, 1821; married Catharine Holliday. 8. Annis, born 16 January, 1824; unmarried. 9. Webb, born 24 February, 1826; married Elizabeth Ann Radaker. 10. Emily, born 11 Dec., 1829; married Nicholas M. Young; died 5 Jan., 1875. "Isaac Horton moved from Colchester to Liberty, Sullivan Co., N. Y., 4 and 5 of April, 1826. The snow fell in April, after they moved, about two feet deep. He had a large stock of cows, sheep and hogs. In his flock of sheep were twenty-two ewes, the finest that could be found in Colchester, nearly all of them only two years old. He drove them to Liberty. Wolves were seen on the way near Parkesville. He arrived at Liberty Falls—salted his sheep in the evening. The next morning the sheep were gone, and Isaac and his son Roy, went up the hill at Liberty Falls to look for them. Before they got beyond the clearing they found dead sheep scattered along the log fence, and others dying. Nearly all the flock were killed. They even killed a lamb in the pen adjoining the house. "In 1837, Isaac Horton had thirty-seven grandchildren, all living but two. His children all lived to maturity."—(Letter G. B. Horton, 1871.) Isaac Horton was a member of the Baptist Church, of Colchester; but after he moved to Liberty, Sullivan Co., N. Y., he usually attended the Episcopal Church. He built a grist-mill at Liberty Falls, in 1827 or 1828, another in 1841–42. He was quite extensively engaged in the manufacture of bed-posts and other turned work, including wooden bowls; also in shipping curled and birds-eye maple. Politically he was a whig, and an ardent supporter of Clay and Webster. He died 10 May, 1855. She is still living. Under date of 8 February, 1874, Webb Horton writes, "My mother is living and in good health. She resides at Liberty, Sullivan Co., N. Y. She is in the eighty-seventh year of her age. Her father died aged eighty-eight, and her grandmother, Prudence Schofield, aged ninety-four. She has now living ten children, thirty-seven grandchildren, and nineteen great-grandchildren." This is a very remarkable family—so large and yet so few deaths. | SENrh Geucratiou,- '9aseph /. O9 Children, all born at Colchester, except Emmily, born at Liberty, Sullivan County, New York, 1. Homer, born 2S Iune, 1So0; married [ane l)vidge, 2. Ray, born S .lpril, 1S11; married MInrthn A. Radnker, and has Agnes. 3. Jomes, bon s June, S13; married 1, Elizabeth Krimer, z, Eliza Ann Clements, y. Charles, born 25 1elruary, 1S15; married llet-ey GrAnt, g. Esther, born 4 Angust, 1S17; maried Nnthaniel Gldersleeve, 6. Clnrissa, born Mny, 181g; married Iohn C. Smith. 7. Ovid, born 7 May, 1821; married Catharine IIollidy, S. Annis, born 16 January, 1824; unmarried, g, Webb, born z; February, 1S26; married Eliahbeth Ann Radaker, 1o, Emily, born 1 Dec., 1829; married Nicholas M. Young; died s Jnn., tS75. ''Isaac Horton moved from Colchester to Lberty, Sullivan Co., N. Y., 4 and g of April, r8a6. 'The snow fell in April, after they moved, about two feet deep. He had a large stock of cows, sheep and hogs, In his flock of sheep were twenty-two ewes, the finest that could be found in Colchester, nearly all of themm only two years old, He drove them to Liberty, Wolves were seen on the way near Parkesville. He arrived at Liberty Falls-salted his sheep in the evening. The next morning the sheep were gone, and Isaac and his son Koy, went up the hill at Liberty Falls to look for them. Before they got beyond the clearing they found dead sheep scattered along the log fence, and others dying. Nearly all the flock were killed. They even killed a lamb in the pen adjoining the house. ''In r837, Isaac Horton had thirty-seven grandchildren, all living but two. His children all lived to maturity,''-(Letter G. b. orzon, 87r.) Isaac Horton was a member of the Baptist Church, of Colchester; but after he moved to Liberty, Sullivan Co,, N. ., he usually attended the Episcopal Church. He built a grist-mill at Liberty Falls, in 1827 or 1828, another in r841-42. He was quite extensively engaged in the manufacture of bed-posts and other turned work, including wooden bowls; also in shipping curled and birds-eye rmaple. Politi- cally he was a whig, and an ardent supporter of Clay and Webster, He died ro May, 1855. She is still living. U nder date of 8 February, 1871, Webb Horton writes, '' My mother is living and in good health. She resides at Liberty, Sullivan Co., N. Y. She is in the eighty-seventh year of her age. Her father died aged eightyeight, and her grandmother, Prudence Schofield, aged ninety-four. She has now living ten children, thirty-seven grand- children, and nineteen great-grandchildren,'' This is a very remarkable family-so large and yet so few deaths, |
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| 24 Sixth Generation.—Joseph I. It is a rare occurrence to find a family of children, ten in number, the youngest forty-six years old, all living. And then so many grandchildren and great-grandchildren living. I have no record of any family equal to it, and doubtless, the number is now (1875), somewhat augmented. IV. Esther, daughter of Rachel Horton and Daniel Wright (Daniel, David, Joseph I.), born at Yorktown, N. Y., in September, 1761; married Enoch Knapp, about 1786. Children all born at Yorktown. 1. Prudence, born 20 January, 1787; married Isaac Horton. 2. Esther; married Charles Bliven. 3. Allen. 4. James. 5. Charles; married Sylvia Radaker. I. Joseph, son of Stephen Horton and Sarah Owens (Daniel, David, Joseph I.), born at Sommers, formerly Stephentown, N. Y., 24 August, 1759; married, in 1784, Mary Beedle, born about 1760. He died in June, 1813. Children all born at Sommers, N. Y.: 1. Benjamin, born 19 February, 1785; married Hannah Strang. 2. Jesse. 3. Philena. 4. Joel. 5. Phebe. VIII. Wright, son of Stephen Horton and Elizabeth Frost, second wife, born at Yorktown, N. Y., 22 May, 1776; married 28 November, 1798, Anna Quereau, daughter of Dr. Quereau, and born 10 March, 1780. Died 4 January, 1852. He died 27 June, 1861. Children, probably, all born at Yorktown: 1. Elias Quereau, born 22 December, 1800; married Mary Lyons. He died 23 September, 1831. 2. Betsey Ann, born 4 November, 1802; married 10 January, 1827. 3. George W., born 10 September, 1804; married Charlotte Griffin. 4. Frost, born 15 September, 1806; married Phebe Tompkins. 5. Stephen D., born 3 October, 1808; married Delia Clapp. He died 5 March, 1842. 6. William C., born 9 January, 1811; married Phebe McKeel; he died 26 January, 1846. 7. Jane, born 17 July, 1813; married 19 May, 1839, Thomas C. Van Heusen. 8. Sarah, born 10 May, 1815; married 18 March, 1838, Joseph T. Hollow. She died 11 January, 1850. 9. Peter Quereau, born 26 December, 1817; resides at Sing Sing. Unmarried. 10. Wright Frost, born 22 February, 1820; died 23 March 1844. Unmarried. Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. I. Richard, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie (Richard, John, David, Joseph I.), born in Peekskill, N. Y., about 1766. Moved with his father's family from Peekskill to Stroudsburg, Pa. | 24 SGez Geueration,- '5sepA /. It is a rre occurrence to find a family of children, ten in number, the youngest forty-sis years old, al iving, And then so many grand- children and great-grandchildren living, I have no record of any family equal to it, and doubtless, the number is now (1875), somewhat augmented. IV. EsTHER, daughter of Rachel Horton and Daniel Wright (Dan- el, Daia, 92e4 /.), born at Yorktown, N. Y., in Septemmber, r;61; married ESoCH KNAPP, about r;86. Children all born at Yorktown. 1. Prudence, born 20 January, 17S7; married Isaac Horton, 2, E-ther; maried Chnrle\< Bliven, 3, Allen. 4, [ames, g, Charles; married Sylvin Radaker, I. JosErH, son of Stephen Horton and Sarah Owens (Dauiel, Daaid, 5asep /.), born at Sommers, formerly Stephentown, N. ., a4 Au- gust, 759; married, in 1;S4, MaRY BEEDLE, born about r;6o, He died in June,18r3. Children all born at Sommers, N. Y.; , Benjamin, born 1g February, 1785; married IIannah Strang. 2. [esse. 3. Philena. 4. Joel. s, Phebbe, VIII, WwaHT, son of Stephen Horton and Elizabeth Frost, second wife, born at Yorktown, N. ., z: May, r;76; married a8 November, 1708, ANNA QUErEAU, daughter of Dr. Quereau, and born o March, 17So. Died 4 January, 18sa. He died a; June, 186r, Children, probably, all born at Yorktown : 1. Elias Quereau, born 22 December, 1Soo ; married Mary I,yons, He died 23 September, 1831. a. Betsey Ann, born 4 November, 1So2 ; married o Ianuary, t827. 3. George W., born o September, 18o4; married Charlotte Griffin, 4, Frost, horn 15 September, 1So6; married Phehe Tomplins, s, Stephen D., born ;October, 1SoS ; aarried Delia Clapp. He died ; March, 184z, 6. William C., born g [anuary, 1S1; married Phebe McKeel ; he died 26 Janu- ary, 1846. 7, Jane, born 7 July, 1813; maried g May, tS39, Thoras C. Vnn Heusen; S. Snrab, born o M.y, 1815; married 18 March, 1838, Joseph T. Hollow, She ded 1 Janua y, 1So. g, Ieter Quereau, born 26 December, 1S17; resides at Sing Sing. Unmarried, o. Wright Frost, born 22 Februay, S2o; died 2; Mnrch 1S1, Unmarried. Seveanth Geueratia,-JOSEPH I. I, RcHARD, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie (Rickard, 99a, Dawia, 5asM /.), born in Peekskill, N. Y., about 1;66. MIoved with his father's iamily from Ieekskill to Stroudsburg, fa., |
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| about 1782; married, in 1787, Tabitha Jayne, daughter of Isaac Jayne and Anna Lattemore, and probably born in New Jersey, about 1768. They settled first at Middlesmithfield, Pa., but about 1790, he moved to Bradford Co., Pa., and settled permanently in Sheshequin, on land now, 1875, occupied by Joseph Towner, son of Enoch Towner. They have both been dead many years—dates have not been given. Both buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. Children all born in Sheshequin except David, who was born in Middlesmithfield, Pa. 1. David, born 22 October, 1788; married Hannah Newell. 2. Isaac Jayne, born 1790; married Ruth N. Ferguson. Both dead. 3. Infant, died before naming. 4. Anna, born 1792; married Caleb Shores. 5. Tabitha, died young. 6. Jemima, married John Lyons. 7. Tabitha, married Nathaniel Shores. 8. Betsey, married George Vibbert. 9. Diana, married Stephen Shores. 10. Richard, born 3 June, 1807; married Eliza Shores. 11. Josephine, born 6 April, 1809; married Daniel Culver. He died 25 August, 1856. She died 27 September, 1856. 12. Jane, married Aaron Shores, live in the West. 13. Lorinda, married Orrin Smith. II. Elijah M., son of Elijah Horton, and Jemima Currie, born in Peekskill, N. Y., 9 June, 1768; married in 1791, Pamela Ogden, born in Northumberland, now Columbia Co., Pa., at the mouth of Fishing Creek. Soon after the birth of their first child, they moved up the Susquehanna River, and settled in Sheshequin. Pamela Ogden died 11 February, 1804, aged forty years. He married, 2. Abigail Bullard, born 11 April, 1780; died 3 March, 1845. He died August, 1835. All buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. Children all born in Sheshequin except Isaac S., who was born at Fishing Creek: 1. Isaac Snyder, born 20 June, 1792; married Hannah Elliott. 2. Charles, born 5 September, 1793; married Sally Brink; died 24 February, 1873. 3. John, married —— 4. Lydia, married Rev. David Blackman. 5. Mary, married, 1. Smith Horton, 2. Rufus Cooley. 6. Betsey, married King Shores. 7. Elijah, married Elizabeth Ferguson Drake. She was born 1 August, 1799; died 23 October, 1863. 8. Jane Jemima, married Joseph Elliott. | Seenr GGcuerafiou,-/oeph I, about r7Sz; married, in 1;87, 'TAuurrHA [YNE, daughter of Isaac Jayne and Anna Lattemmore, and probably born in New [ersey, about 1768. They settled first at MIiddlesmithfield, Pa., but about 1794,, he moved to Bradford Co., Pa.,and settled permanently in Sheshequin, on land now, 1875, occupied by [oseph Towner, son of Enoch Tow- ner, They have both been dead many years-dates have not been given, Both buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. Children all born in Sheshequin except David, who was born in Middlesmithfield, Pa, 1, David, born 22 October, 17SS ; married Hannah Newell, 2, Isaac [ayne, born 1790; mared Ruth N. Ferguson, Both dead. 3. Infant, died before naming. 4. Anna, born 1792; married Caleb Shores, g,Tabitha, died young. 6. Iemima, married Iohn Lyons, 7. Tabitha, married Nnathaniel Shores, S, Betsey, married George Vibbert, g. Diana, married Stephen Shores, o, Richard, born 3 June, 18o7 ; married Eliza Shores, p. Josephine, born 6 April, 18og; married Daniel Culver, He died zg Au- gwst, 18g6. She died 27 September, 1856. z, Jane, married Aaron Shores, live in the West. 3. Lorinda, married Orrin Smith. a, ELpAH M., son of Elijah Horton, and Jemima Currie, born in Peekskill, N. ., 9 June, 1768; married in 79r, PANELA OGDEN, born in Northumberland, now Columbia Co., Pa., at the mouth of Fishing Creek. Soon after the birth of their first child, they moved up the Susquehanna River, and settled in Sheshequin, Pamela Ogden died February, 18o4, aged forty years, He married, z, ABtGAILL BuLLaR, born April, 178o; died 3 March, 1845. He dicd g August, 1835. All buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. Children all born in Sheshequin except Isaac S., who was born at Fishing Creek: 1, Isaac Snyder, born 2o June, t792; married Hannah Elliott, a, Charles, born September, 1793; married Sally Brinl; died 24 Feb- rwy, 873. 3. Iohn, married - 4. Lydia, married Rev, David Blackman, 5, Mary, married, , Smith Hortun, z, Rufus Cooley, 6. Betsey, mnrried King Shores, 7. Elijah, married Elizabeth Ferguson Drnle, She was born August, 799; died a; Ocober, 1863. S. [ane Iemima, married oseph Elliott, |
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| 26 Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. By second wife: 9. William Bullard, born 27 September, 1807; married Melinda Blackman. 10. Charles, married Sally Brink. 11. Lucinda, married John B. Smith. 12. John, married Sally Stevens, went West. III. Isaac, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born Peekskill, 19 April, 1772. Came to Sheshequin with his father married, 1. Sally Smith, 2. Laura Stevens, sister of Ira H. Stevens Esq., former Sheriff of Bradford Co., and born in Athens, Pa., 19 June, 1797. She died 19 June, 1851. Sally Smith died 18 August, 1814. He died 6 September. 1861,—without issue. All buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. IV. Joshua, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Peekskill, N. Y., 7 October, 1774; married, about 1800, Lucy Thompson, daughter of William Thompson and Elsie Welsh, and born 14 December, 1780. He came to Sheshequin about 1790. Children all born in Sheshequin: 1. Elsie, born in 1801; married Abraham Durham. 2. Richard, born 1803; died aged 10 years, 1 month, and 10 days. 3. Lucy, born 1805; married Lemuel Landrus. She died. 4. Sally, born 1807; married Francis Forbes. 5. Joshua, born 1809; married Betsey Brink. 6. William, born 1811; married Sally Shores. 7. Richard T., born 20 May, 1813; married Rhoda Horton, daughter of David Horton. Lucy Thompson Horton died 19 May, 1814, and he married Lucinda Ellis, born 2 January, 1788, and had— 8. Ithiel, born 1815; married Polly Brink, moved West. 9. Lucinda married Ethan Tuthill, both dead. 10. Esther married Jackson Blackman, no issue, they live in the West. 11. Ulysses married Sally Elliott. 12. Fanny married Elijah H. Blackman, lives in Illinois. 13. Eleazer married Harriet Chaffee, both dead. 14. Lewis born 6 February, 1822; married Sallie Maria Chaffee. 15. Luman P. married Phebe Horton, daughter of Richard N. Horton. 16. Nelson, married Lucy Bullis, moved to Rochelle, Ill. Lucinda Ellis Horton died 20 April, 1864, and he married Phebe Goodsell. He died 19 February, 1863, she is still living. He and his two deceased wives were buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. V. Gilbert, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, in 1784; came to Bradford County with his father; married Mary Beardsley and settled in Sheshequin. He moved to the West about 1850. | 26 By second wife : Seveuh Geueation,--/aseph I. g, William, Bullard, horn 27 September, 18o7; married Melinda Blackman. o, Chnrles, married Snlly Brink, 1. Lucindn, married Joln B, Smith. I2. Jolm, married Sally Stevens, went West, III. Isaac, son of Elijah Horton and Elizabeth Currie, born in Peekskill, 19 April, 772, Came to Sheshequin with his father; married, 1, SALLY SMrTH, z, LLaURa STEvENS, sister of Ira H. Stevens, lLsq., former Sheriff of Bradford Co., and born in Athens, Pa,, r9 June, 1797. She died g June, 185, Sally Smith died 18 Au- gust, 184. He died 6 September, 1861,-without issue, All buried in Horn Brook Cemetery, IV. osHuA, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Peekskill, N. Y., 7 October, 1774; married, about 8oo, Lucy T'HoSPsO, daughter of Williamy Thompson and Elsie Welsh, and born r4 December, 1So. He came to Sheshequin about 170o. Children all born in Sheshequin: 1, Elsie, born in 18o1; married Albraham Durham. 2. Richard, born 18o3; died aged io years, month, and o days, 3, Lucy, born 18o5; married Lemuel Lan- drus, She died. 4, Sally, born 1So7; married Francis Forhes, 5, Joshua, born 18og; married Betsey Brink. 6. William, born 181; married Sally Shores, 7. Richard T., born 2o May, 1813: married Rhoda Horton, daughter of David Horton. Lucy Thompson HHBorton died 1g May, 1814, and he married LuciNDa ELLIS, born 2 January, 1788, and had-- S. Ithiel, born 1S15; married 1olly llrink, moved West, g, Lucinda married Ethan Tuthill, bboth dead, o, Esther married Jackson Blackman, no isue, they 1ive in the West, 1. Ulysses maried Sally Elliott, 2. Fanny married Eli[ah H. Blackman, lives in Illinois, 13. Eleazer married Harriet Chaffee, both dead. 4. Lewis born 6 February, 1822; maried Snllie Maaarin Chaffee, 15, Luman P., married Phebe Horton, daughter of Richard N, Horton, 16, Nelson, mnrried Lucy Bullis, moved to Rochelle, Ill, Lucinda Ellis Horton died 2o April, 1864, and he married PHEBE GoopsELL. He died g February, 1863, she is still living. He and and his two deceased wives were buried in Horn Brook Cemetery. V. GLbERT, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, in r784; came to Bradford County with his father; married MARY BEARDSLEy and settled in Sheshequin, He moved to the West about Sgo. |
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| Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. 27 Children, all born in Sheshequin: 1. Freeman, died at 18. 2. Clarissa, married Leonard Shaw. 3. Reuben, married Polly Pierce. 4. David, went West. VI. Stephen, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, about 1786; died 23 November, 1868; married Susan Mayhew in 1807, she born on Long Island, New York, in 1788; died at North Towanda, Pennsylvania, 28 February, 1873. They lived in Sheshequin, Pennsylvania. Children: 1. Elijah Harrison, born 12 November, 1808; married Mary Forster. 2. Hiram, married Hannah Hovey; they live at Lawrenceville, Pa. 3. Shepherd, married Harriet Accla; live at Painted Post, N. Y. 4. Mayhew, married Elizabeth Lyons; live at Blossburg, Pa. 5. Elizabeth, married Geo. Williams; he is dead. 6. Mary, married Benjamin Lyons. 7. Catharine, married Hiram Goff; live in Monroe, Pa. 8. Ann, married Rosin Fox; live on Hollon Hill, Pa. VII. William, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Stroudsburg, Pa., 14 May, 1789; married at the old Judge Gore place, in Sheshequin, 15 January, 1809, by Samuel Gore, Esq., to Esther Cowell, daughter of Christopher Cowell and Rachel Coolbough, and born in Kingswood, N. J., 19 January, 1789. He settled in 1811, in Sheshequin, about two miles from the river, where his widow now resides. She is now (1875) 87 years old, retains her mental faculties without any apparent failure, and, excepting dimness of sight, her bodily powers are remarkably well preserved. Her husband died 23d ——, 1858. Her son, Isaac Jackson, with whom she lives very comfortably, occupies the old homestead. Children, all born in Sheshequin: 1. Eliza, born 29 April, 1811; married Joseph Tuthill; she is dead. They had Lucinda, Arletta, Murray, Josiah, dead, Jerusha, dead. 2. Delight, born 4 February, 1813; married Albert Tuthill. Children: William, who was shot by an Indian and instantly killed at Elm Grove, Minnesota, Esther, Lucinda, George, dead, Ursula, Franklin, Florence. 3. Richard Currie, born 29 May, 1816; married Elizabeth Smith. 4. Lucinda, born 17 October, 1819; married Guy Smith. Children: Ulysses, dead, Ethline, dead, Ward. 5. William, born 29 June, 1822; married Polly Margaret Rundell. Children: Relsamon, Mahlon, Alice, Mary, Jane, Franklin. Mahlon and Alice are dead. The rest live in Iowa. 6. Esther Jemima, born 27 March, 1824; married John Vought, son of David Vought and Nelly Huyck. Children: Amanda, Eliza, Helen, Thomas, John, dead, Eugene, Esther. | Seveur Geuuerafiou,--/aser /. Children, all born in Sheshequin: 1. Freeman, died at 1S. 3. Reulen, maried Polly Pierce, 2. Clarissa, married Leonard Shaw. 4, David, went West. 27 VI. STEPHEN, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, about 7S6; died ; November, r868; married SusaN MAYHEw in 8o,she born on Long Island, New York, in 1788; died at North Towanda, Pennsylvania, :8 February, 1873. They lived in Sheshequin, Pennsylvania. Children: . Elijah Harrison, born 12 November, 18oS ; married Mary Forster, a. Hiram, married Hannah Hovey; they live at Lawrenceville, Pa. 3. Shepherd, married Iarriet Accla ; live at Painted Post, N, Y. 4 Nayhew, married Elizabeth ILyons ; live at Blossburg, Pa, g. 1Elizabeth, married Geo, Willinms ; he is dead. 6. Mary, married Benjamin Lyons, 7. Catharine, married IIiram Goff ; live in Monroe, Pa. S. Ann, married Rosin Fox ; live on Hollon Hill, Pa, VII. W.utAM, son of Elijah Horton and Jemima Currie, born in Stroudsburg, Pa., 4 May, 1;89; married at the old Judge Gore place, 'in Sheshequin, 15 January, 18og, by Samuel Gore, Esq., to EsTHER CowrLLL, daughter of Christopher Cowell and Rachel Coolbough, and born in Kingswood, N. J., 19 January, 1;8g. He settled in 81, in Sheshequin, about two miles from the river, where his widow now resides, She is now (1875) 87 years old, retains her mental faculties without any apparent failure, and, excepting dimness of sight, her bodily powers are remarkably well preserved. Her husband died z;d -, r848. Her son, Isaac Jackson, with whom she lives very comfortably, occupies the old homestead. Children, all born in Sheshequin : 1. Elsa, born a9 April, 1S1; married %aep\& 7Oz//, she is dead. They had Lucinda, Arletta, Murray, Josiah, dead, Jerusha, dead. 2. DelgAr, born 4 Febbruary, 1813; married AMerr ThAil, Children : William, who was shot by an Indian and instantly killed at Elm Grove, Mnnesota, Esther, Lucinda, George, dead, Ursula, Franklin, Florence, 3. Richard Currie, horn zg May, 1S16; married Elsa\&eh S:iA. 4. La4cinda, born 17 October, 1S1g; married Gny SmizA. Children : Ulysses, dead, Ehline, dead, Ward. 5. IfYiam, born z9 June, S2z; married Pa/y \&argaret Raotdal, Children : Relsamon, Mahlon, Alice, Mary, Jane, Franklin, Mnhlon and Alice are dead, The rest live in Iowa. 6, Eher %emiw:a, born 27 March, 1S24; married %an PagAt, son of David Vought and Nelly Huyck. Children: Amanda, Eliza, Helen, Thomas, Jobn, dead, Eugene, Esther. |
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| 28 Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. 7. Rachel Amanda, born 5 April, 1826; married George Chaffee. Children: William Dallas, dead, Francis, Mahlon and Sevelon, twins, Ethline, Jackson, Julia. 8. Isaac Jackson, born 3 Dec., 1828; married 3 March, 1852, in Sheshequin, by Rev. Mr. Gibson, of the Universalist Church of Sheshequin, to Elizabeth Rogers, daughter of John Rogers and Elizabeth Petit, and born in Litchfield, Penn'a, 26 December, 1834; they reside at the old homestead of William Horton. No children. 9. Lucy Ann, born 12 September, 1830; married, in Sheshequin, 31 December, 1850, by Rev. S. J. Gibson, to Joseph Franklin Blackman, son of Col. Franklin Blackman and Sybil Beardsley, and born 9 June, 1825; they reside in Sheshequin, near Col. Blackman's. Children: William Wallace, born 7 October, 1851; Mary, born 28 July, 1854; Florence E., born 17 October, 1858, died 26 July, 1861; George, born 17 February, 1863; Grace, born 1 September, 1870. I. Phebe, daughter of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook (Hon. William, Daniel, David, Joseph I.), born at Colchester, New York, 27 December, 1794; married 15 January, 1817, by Esq. Robinson, to Daniel Robbins. He was born 29 July, 1792; he died 9 September. 1850. She died. Children, born at Chaumont: 1. Caroline Horton, born 19 April, 1818; married, 9 Feb'y, 1837, Noah Dunham. 2. Marietta, born 3 April, 1820; married, 27 January, 1842, to James Stebbins. 3. Abigail Horton, born 18 Jan., 1823; married, 28 Feb., 1848, to Geo. W. Phelps. 4. James, born 26 November, 1824. 5. John D. A., born 2 January, 1827; married 30 June, 1850, to Elizabeth Lance. 6. Daniel C., born 29 May, 1829; married, 16 February, to Magdaline Zimmerman. 7. Eliza E., born 22 May, 1832; married Chauncy Canfield, 20 April, 1851. 8. Lucy Jane, born 20 August, 1834. III. Eliza, daughter of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born 7 December, 1799; married Ralph W. Rogers, by Elder Farmer, 4 February, 1819. He born 27 September, 1792; died 29 Sept., 1866. Children, born at Point Salubrious, the residence of their parents: 1. Perley, born 18 Aug., 1802; married, by Rev. J. Canfield, to Susanna Dunham. 2. Henry Horton, born 19 February, 1822; died 31 May, 1830. 3. Charles, born 24 September, 1823; married, 22 February, 184-, by Esq. Hoyt, to Angeline Bloget. 4. Byron, born 19 June, 1825; married Julia A. Warner. 5. Anna J., born 29 June, 1827; married Edwin Warner, by Esq. Hoyt. 6. Minot J., 23 July, 1829; married, 1. Adeline Dewey, 2. Jerusha Hagens. 7. Mercy Ann, born 3 Dec., 1832; married, by Rev. J. Canfield, to Daniel Owens. 8. James L., born 23 March, 1835; married, 1. Elizabeth Denison, 2. Louisa Warner, 3. Almyra Warner. 9. Gaylord, born 22 April, 1837. 10. Rebecca, born 24 December, 1838; married Ambrose Warner. 11. Cyrus, born 4 June, 1841; married Mary Moren. | 28 Seventh Generation,--/aseph J. 7. acke Amanda, bborn s April, 1S26; married George Cäad2e, Children: Wil. liam Dallns, dead, Francis, Mnhlon nnd Sevelon, twins, Ethline, [ackson, Julia, S. aac %acion, born Dec., 1S2S; married ; March, 1852,in Sheshequin, by Rev, MIr, Gibson, of the Universalist Church of Sheshequin, to Eca\&erh Aagers, daughter of John Rogers and Elizabeth Petit, and born in Litchfield, Penn'a, a6 December, 1S34; they reside at the old homestead uf Willinm Horton. No children, 9. Lg' An, born 2 September, 1S30; married, in Sheshequin, 1 December, 1Sgo, by Rev, S. [. Gibson, to 7aep /ran+in Blacimian, son of Col, Franklin Blnckman and Sylil Benrdsley, and born g June, 1S25; they reside in Sheshequin, near Col, Blnckman's. Children : William Wallace, born 7 October, 18g1; Nary, born 2S July, 1S54; Florence E,, born 17 October, 18gS, died 26 uly, 1861 ; George, born 17 February, 186; Grace, born September, 1S7o. . THEbE, daughter of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook (an. Ifiiav, Daniel, David, /asN J.), born at Colchester, New York, a; December, 1794; married 1g January, 1817, by Esq, Robinson, to DANE. RoBBNs. He was born 2g July, 17g2; he died g September, 8go, She died. Children, born at Chaumont: 1. Caroline Horton, horn 1g April, 1S18; married, g Feb'y, 1837, Noah Dunham, 2. Marietta, born 3 April, S2o; married, 27 Januay, 842, to James Stebbins, 3. Abigail Horton, born 1S Jan., 1823; married, 2S Feb., 1S4S, to Geo, W. Phelps, 4. James, born 26 Novembber, 1S24, 5. John D. A., born z January, 1S27; married 3o June, 1S5o, to Eliznbeth Lance, 6. Daniel C ,born zg May, 1S2g; married, 16 February, to Magdaline Zimmerman, 7. Eliza E., born z2 May, 1832; married Chauncy Canfield, zo April, 1851. S. ILucy Jane, born 2o Augwst, 834. u, ELza, daughter of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born 7 December, 1799, married RaLPH W. RoaERs, by Elder Farmer, a February, 1816, He born 27 September, 762; died z6 Sept., 1866. Children, born at Point Salubrious, the residence of their parents : 1, Perley, born 18 Aug., o2; married, by Rev, J. Canfield, to Susanna Dunham. 2. Henry Horton, born 1g Febbruary, S22; dicd ;1 May, 183o, 3. Charles, born z4 September, 152;; married, 22 February, 1S4-, by Esq. IIoyt, to Angeline Bloget, 4. lßyron, born 9 [une, 1S25; maied [ulia A, Wnrner, 5. Anna [,, born a9 June, 1827; married Edwin Warner, by Esq, Iioyt, 6, Minot [., z3 July, 1S29; married, t. Adeline ewey, z, Jerusha Hagens, 7. Mercy Ann, born 3 Dec., 1832; married, bby Rev, J, Canfield, to Daniel Owens, 8. [ames L., born 2; March, 1S35; married, 1, Elizabeth Denison, , Louisa Wnrner, 3, Almyra Wnrner, 9. Gaylord, born z2 April, 1837. ro, Rebecca, born z4 Decemmber, 1S3S; married Amlrose Warner. 1, Cyrus, born 4 June, B41; married Mry Moren, |
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| Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. 29 V. John Todd, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born at Colchester, N. Y., 29 September, 1803; married at Point Salubrious, 14 January, 1827, by Esq. Lockwood, to Emeline Smith, born 15 June, 1806. He is a blacksmith by trade, resides at Mason City, Iowa. They are members of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Children all born at Point Salubrious, except William D., born at Mason, Iowa. 1. Albert F., born 26 December, 1827; married Lucinda Hunter. 2. Emily, born 9 March, 1830; died 18 August, 1836. 3. Martha M., born 11 March, 1832; married 27 February, 1851, by Rev. I. Canfield, to George Hunter. 4. Isabella D., born 9 November, 1834; married, 20 September, 1864, William Knapp. She died 29 December, 1873. 5. Emma F., born 2 June, 1838; died 20 December, 1838. 6. John S., born 29 November, 1840; married Olive Verder. VI. Le Roy, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born in Colchester, N. Y., 10 November, 1805; married, 26 February, 1828, by Esq. Stone, to Jane Reynolds, born 22 November, 1807. Children all born at Lyme, N. Y. 1. Henry, born 20 July, 1831; married Sally Bush. 2. Angelina Cook, born 31 August, 1833; married Isaac Adams. 3. William Dare, born 17 September, 1835; married Louisa Border. 4. Margaret, born 7 July, 1837; died 3 July, 1868. 5. Isaac Cook, born 27 April, 1839; married Helen F. Blodgett. 6. Dorr, born 12 September, 1841; married Eveline O. Fish. 7. James Le Roy, born 2 February, 1844; married Martha J. Williamson. VII. Samuel McCrea, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born at Colchester, N. Y., 14 October, 1807; married 2 November, 1831, to Leah Trumper; she was born 2 April, 1810. He died at Chaumont, 1870. Moved to Chaumont with his father's family where he settled. Children all born at Chaumont: 1. John McCrea, born 2 August, 1832; married 11 March, 1857, to Mary Jane Shelley, no children. 2. Henry Trumper, born 25 January, 1835; married 1 January, 1860, to Rachel Doty. 3. Abigail C., born 4 January, 1838; married James Lauer. Henry T. Horton and Rachel Doty have two children: 1. Levi D., born 6 August, 1861, and 2. Estella, born 2 September, 1865. X. Henry, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born at Point Salubrious, N. Y., 12 April, 1814; married 6 January, 1836, by Esq. Bouse, to Sarah P. Dunham; she was born 6 July, 1818; she | Sezenrh Geueratio1.-/asep J. , 20 V. JoHN Tonn, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born at Colchester, N. V., 20 September, 18o; married at Point Salubrious, 14 January, 1827, by Esq, Lockwood, to EMurnE SNurH, born 15 June, 18o6. He is a blacksmith by trade, resides at Mason City, Iowa. They are members of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Children all born at Point Salubrious, except William D., born at MIason, Iowa. 1, Albert F., born 26 December, 1S27; married Lucinda Hunter, z, Emily, born g March, 82o; died 15 August, 1846. 3. Mnrtha M., born n March, 1832 married 27 February, 1851, by Rev, I. Can- field, to George Hunter. 4, Isabelln D., born g November, 1534; married, zo September, 1864, William Knapp. She died 2g December, 1873, g, Emma F., born June, 1838; died zo December, 1838. 6. ohn S., born 2g November, 1S4o; married Olive Verder, VI. LE Ro, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born in Col- chester, N. Y., o November, 18o5; married, 26 February, 18a8, by Esq. Stone, to JANE REYNOLDS, born 2a November, 18o7. Children all born at Lyme, N. Y. . Henry, born zo July, t831; married Sally Bush. 2. Angeline Cook, born 3I August, 1S33; married Isaac Adams, ;. Williarm Dare, born r7 September, 1835; married Louisa Border, 4, Margaret, born 7 July, 18;7; died ; July, 1868. s, Isaac Cook, born 27 April, 1839; married Helen F. Blodgett. 6. Dorr, born 12 September, 1S4; married Eveline O. Fish, 7. James Le Roy, born 2 February, 1S44; married Martha I, Williamson. VII. SAMuEL McCREA, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born at Colchester, N. Y., r4 October, 8o;; married 2 November, r831, to LEaH TUPER; she was born 2 April, r8o, He died at Chaumont, 187o. Moved to Chaumont with his father's family where he settled. Children all born at Chaumont : 1, John McCrea, born z August, S32: married 1 MInrch, 18g7, to Nnry Jane Shelley, no children, 2. IIenry Trumper, born z5 Jnunry, 185; married January, 1S6o, to Rachel Doty. 3. Abigail C., born 4 January, 1bS; mared James Lauer, Henry T. Horton and Rachel Doty have two children: r, Lev D., born 6 August, 1S61, and 2. Estelln, born 2 September, 1865. a. HENRY, son of Henry Horton and Abigail Cook, born at Point Salubrious, N. Y., ra April, t84; married 6 January, 1836, by Esq. Bouse, to SARAH P. DuNHAN; she was born 6 July, 1818 ; shhe |
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| 30 Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. died 28 July, 1858. He married, 2. on the 6 January, 1860, by George Smith, Esq., to Fidelia Horton; she died 26 January, 1870. He married, 3. by Esq. Ennons, 12 April, 1872, to Helonia Pluche. Children by first wife, born at Point Salubrious. 1. Caroline, born 12 July, 1838; married Warren Horton. He died 4 July, 1870, leaving one son Willie, born 16 August, 1869. 2. Edward Baker, born 21 October, 1840; married Ellen Delma. 3. George Bertrand, born 27 April, 1844; married Henrietta Meeks. By second wife: 4. Sarah Estella, born 12 December, 1861. 5. Harry, born 6 March, 1866. 6. Jason, born 2 May, 1867. 7. Frank A., born 16 January, 1870. George Philip, son of Joseph Horton, (Stephen, Daniel, David, Joseph I.), born in Claverack, N. Y., in 1798; married Magdalena Miller, daughter of Cornelius Miller, and born in Claverack, N. Y., in 1800. Children: 1. Rev. F. A., born in Philmont, N. Y., 15 September, 1841. 2. Cornelius Miller, born in Philmont, N. Y., 26 November, 1844. "The original ancestor on the father's side was Michael, and on the mother's side it was Cornelius Stephanse Muldor, friend and companion of the old Patroon, the Hon. Stephen Van Rensalaer, and originally from Rykerk, Holland."—Letter of Rev. F. A. Horton, of Catskill, now (1874), of Cleveland. VI. Thomas, son of Thomas Horton and Mary Wright (Thomas, Thomas, David, Joseph I.), born in Hector, Schuyler Co., N. Y., 26 June, 1800; married, 27 February, 1823, to Rachel Lee daughter of David Lee, of Duchess Co., N. Y. Children, probably, all born in Pultney, Steuben Co., N. Y.: 1. David Lee, born 1824; married Susan Swarthout. 2. William Edward, born 14 March, 1826; married Nancy Bancroft. 3. Mary, born 26 July, 1828; married 5 June 1849, to Rev. J. C. Mallory. 4. Martha Cordelia, born 4 Oct., 1830; married 11 Oct., 1852, Rev. A. B. Chase. 5. Ann Eliza, born 15 March, 1833; married 4 July, 1852, Minor Swarthout. 6. Daniel Taylor, born 16 Nov., 1835; married, 1. Mary Ann Swarthout, 2. Mary Jane Knapp. 7. Sarah Maria, born 10 October, 1838; died 28 June, 1855. 8. Joseph Robert, born 25 April, 1841; married, 25 Feb., 1868, to Abbey Gaspar 9. Theodore Marcena, born 11 August, 1845; married Mary E. Jordan. | 30 Sevet Generation,--/oseph /. died 28 July, 1858. He married, a, on the 6 January, 186o, by George Smith, Esq., to FmELA HoRroN; she died a6 January, 187o. He married, 3. by Esq. Ennons, 1 April, r872, to HELoNA PLucHE. Children by first wife, born at Point Salubrious, 1, Caroline, born 2 July, 183S; married Wnrren IIortun, He died 4 July, 187o, leaving one son Willie, born 16 Augnst, 1S6g, a. Edward Baker, born 2 October, 18o; married Ellen Delma, 3. George Bertrand, born 27 April, 1844; married Ienrietta Meeks, By second wife : 4. Sarah Estella, born r2 December, 186, g, Harry, born 6 March, 1866. 6. Jason, born z May, 1867. 7. Frank A., born 16 [anuary, 187o, 1 GEoRaE PHP, son of Joseph Horton, (Szäeu, Daniel, David, [92s/ /), born in Claverack, N. Y., in ;08; married MaaaLENA MLLER, daughter of Cornelius Miller, and born in Claverack, N. Y., in 18oo, Children: 1, Rev, F. A., bon in Philmont, N. V., 15 September, 1841. 2, Cornelius Mller, born in Philmont, N. Y., 26 Novembber, 1844. S The original ancestor on the father's side was Mighael, and on the mother's side it was Cornelius Stephanse MIuldor, friend and companion of the old Patroon, the Hon, Stephen Van Rensala:r, and originally from Rykerk, Holland.''--Zetter gf Aew, F. A. Ioran, g Cas, no (1872), gf Cleveland. VI. THoMAs, son of Thomas Horton and Mary Wright (27owias, 27omas, Dawid, 94se\& /), born in Hector, Schuyler Co., N. Y., a6 June, 8oo; married, 27 February, 18a3, to RAcHEL LEE, daughter of David Lee, of Duchess Co., N. Y. Children, probably, all born in Pultney, Steuben Co., N. Y.: 1, David Lee, born 1S24; married Susan Swarthout, z. William Edwnrd, born 4 March, 1826; married Nancy Bancroft, 3. Mary, born a6 July, 182S; married 5 June, 1849, to Rev, J, C. Mallory, 4, Martha Cordelia, hon 4 Oct., 183o; nuarried 1 Oct,, 1S52, Rev, A, B. Chase, 5, Ann Eliza, born 1s March, 1833; married 4 July, t852, Minor Swarthout, 6. Daniel Tnylor, born 16 Nov., 1835; married, 1. Mary .Ann Swarthout, z, May Jane Knapp. 7. Sarah Mnria, horn o Octubber, 1838; died 28 June, 55, 8. Joseph Robert, born a5 April, 1841; married, 25 Feh., 1868, to Abhey Gosper, g. Theodore Marcena, born 1 Augu-t, 1845; married May t. Jordan, |
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| Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. 31 I. Elias Quereau, son of Wright Horton and Anna Quereau (Stephen, Daniel, David, Joseph I.), born at Yorktown, 22 December, 1800; was married in Bedford, N. Y., 25 January, 1826, by Ezra Fountain, to Mary Lyons, daughter of Ezra Lyons, and born in Bedford, about 1802. He died 23 September, 1831, at Yorktown; was buried at Amawalk. Children born at Yorktown: 1. Martha Ann, born 26 December, 1829. 2. Elizabeth M., born 27 May, 1831. George Washington, son of Wright Horton and Anna Quereau, born at Yorktown, West Chester Co., N. Y., 10 September, 1804; married, 1. at Bedford, N. Y., by Daton Webus, Esq., 3 November, 1824, to Charlotte Griffin, daughter of Jacob and Rosanna Griffin; she died at Richfield Springs, 5 June, 1843; married, 2. to Julia A. Caney, 10 March, 1844, daughter of Edward and Mary Caney. Children: 1. Charles W., born 2 November, 1825; died 13 December, 1826. By second wife: 2. Anna, born 6 April, 1845; married Menzo Clapsadale. 3. Jane Elizabeth, born 25 November, 1848; died 20 February, 1864. 4. Mary Louisa, born 19 November, 1850; died 28 January, 1867. 5. William Van Hocson, born 22 June, 1864; died 28 March, 1870. George W. Horton is now living at Richfield Springs, Otsego Co., N. Y. He is a liberal, kind-hearted man, much esteemed in the community. IV. Hon. Frost, son of Wright Horton and Ann Quereau, born in Yorktown, N. Y., 15 September, 1806; married at Yorktown, 17 October, 1827, by Thomas Tompkins, Esq., to Phebe Tompkins, daughter of William Tompkins and Lydia Lane, and born at Yorktown, 25 November, 1803. William Tompkins was a cousin of Ex-Governor Daniel D. Tompkins, of New York. Children, all born at Peekskill: 1. William James, born 10 December, 1828; married Leah B. Carpenter. 2. Sarah Jane, born 10 June, 1832; died 10 March, 1835. 3. Cornelia, born 17 February, 1837; died 18 February, 1852. 4. Stephen D., born 17 February, 1837; married Emily Horton. Hon. Frost Horton is a retired manufacturer, and resides at Peekskill. He has always been a prominent man in the community, enjoying in a high degree the confidence and respect of his fellow citizens. | Seeutl Geueration,--/asAh /. S1 I. ELAs QuEREAU, son of Wright Horton and Anna Quereau (Sfeeu, Dauiel, David, 5sep /), born at Yorktown, z: Decem- ber, 8oo; was married in Bedford, N. Y., z5 January, 1826, by Ezra Fountain, to MIARY LYONS, daughter of Ezra Lyons, and born in Bedford, about 8o2, He died a; September, 1831, at Yorktown ; was buried at A mawalk. Children born at Yorktown : . Martha Ann, born 26 Decembber, 1829, 2, Elizabeth M., born 27 May, 831. GEoRaE WASHNGTON, son of Wright Horton and Anna QQuereau, born at Yorktown, West Chester Co., N. Y., o September, 18o4: married, , at Bedford, N. V., by Daton Webus, Esq., 2 November, 18a4, to CHARLorrE GRFFIN, daughter of Jacob and Rosanna Griffin ; she died at Richfield Springs. 5 June, 18-43; married, 2, to JuuA A. CaNEY, o March, 1844, daughter of Edward and Mary Caney. Children : 1. Charles W., bom 2 November, tS2g; died 13 December, 1826. By second wife : 2, Anna, born 6 April, 1S45; married MIenzo Clapsadale. 3. Jane Elizabeth, orn 25 November, 181S; died 2o February, t861. 4, Mary Louisa, born 1g Novemler, 1Sgo; died 28 January, 1S67. g. William Van Hocson, horn 22 June, 1864; died 28 Mnrch, 187o. George W. Horton is now living at Richfield Springs, Otsego Co., N. Y. He is a liberal, kind-hearted man, much esteemed in the community. IV. Hos. FRosr, son of Wright Horton and Ann Ouereau, born in Yorktown, N. V., g September, 18o6 ; married at Yorktown, ; Oc- tober, 1827, byThomas Tompkins, Esq., to PHEns TosrrNs, daugh- ter of Williamm Tompkins and Lydia Lane, and born at Yorktown, 2g November, 18o;. William Tompkins was a cousin of Ex-Governor Daniel D. Tompkins, of New York, Children, all born at Peekskill: 1, Willinm [ames, horn o Decemher, 1S28 ; married Leah Iß, Carpenter, 2. Snrah Jane, born 1o June, 1832; died o MIarch, 1S35, 3. Cornelia, orn 17 Februarv, 1837; ded 18 February, tS52. 4. Stephen D., born 7 February, 1837; married Emily Horton, Hon. Frost Horton is a retired manufacturer, and resides at Peeks- lill. He has always been a prominent man in the community, enjoy- ing in a high degree the confidence and respect of his fellow citizens. |
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| 32 Seventh Generation.—Joseph I. He possesses fine social qualities, and, since retiring from business, he occasionally amuses himself in hunting and fishing. His integrity, industry and great business capacities, during the active part of his life, rendered him a most valuable acquisition to the community in which he carried on his business, and the articles he manufactured were of sterling value to the farming interests of the country. Mr. Horton, on sending me his photograph for an engraving, accompanied it with the following very modest and unassuming sketch of his life: "I was born in Yorktown, Westchester County, New York, 15 September, 1806. My parents were farmers, in moderate circumstances. I remained with them until I was seventeen, working on the farm in the summer, and going to school in the winter, thus acquiring merely a common-school education. When I was seventeen years old, at the suggestion of my parents, I decided to learn the blacksmith trade, and commenced the business at once, and served an apprenticeship for several years. On the 17th of October, 1827, I married Phebe Tompkins, and on the 9th of March, 1820, we moved to Peekskill village, where we have resided ever since. I bought some property, and set up the blacksmithing business. I succeeded well in the business. In the spring of 1835 I entered into a co-partnership business with Mr. Truman Minor, under the firm name of 'Minor & Horton,' and went into the foundry business, manufacturing agricultural implements, principally ploughs and plough-castings. Our business increased rapidly, and paid us well. We continued partners for twenty years. In 1855 Mr. Minor retired from business, and I took in Mr. Geo. W. Depeu as a partner, and about two years afterwards, we admitted each of us a son, and the firm then became, 'Horton, Depeu & Sons.' Our manufactured articles were sold in nearly every State in the Union, and also in many foreign countries. "In 1862 we all sold out to a stock company, formed for that purpose. Having been in active business for thirty years, I now retired. In the spring of 1855 I was elected Supervisor of the town of Cortlandt, and I represented that town in the Board of Supervisors for five years in succession. "In the winter of 1858, I was a member of the Legislature from this Assembly District. For many years I held the various offices of our village, but of late have declined official stations, preferring the enjoyments of private life." Mr. Horton is not a public professor of Christianity, but is a gentleman of correct moral deportment, and very temperate in his habits. | e o Seventh Geueratio.--/asep . He possesses fine social qualities, and, since retiring from business, he' occasionally amuses himself in hunting and fishing. His integrity, industry and great business capacities, during the active part of his life, rendered him a most valuable acquisition to the community in which he carried on his business, and the articles he manufactured were of sterling value o the farming interests of the country, MIr. Horton, on sending me his photograph for an engraving. accompanied it with the following very modest and unassuming sketch of his life : etI was born in Yorktown, Westchester County, New York, 15 Septemmber, 18o6. My parents were farmers, in moderate circum- stances, I remained with them until I was seventeen, working on the farm in the summer, and going to school in the winter, thus acquiring merely a common-school education, When I was seventeen years old, at the suggestion of my parents, I decided to learn the blacksmith trade, and commenced the business at once, and served an appren- ticeship for several years, On the ;th of October, 18a7, I married Phebe Tompkins, and on the gth of March, 82o, we moved to Peeks- lill village, where we have resided ever since, I bought some pro- perty, and set up the blacksmithing business, I succeeded well in the business, In the spring of 183g I entered into a co-partnership busi- ness with MIr. Truman Minor, under the firm name of MIinor \& Hor- ton,' and went into the foundry business, manufacturing agricultural implements, principally ploughs and plough-castiags, Our business increased rapidly, and paid us well, We continued partners for twenty years, In 18gg Mr, Minor retired from business, and I took in Mr. Geo, W. Depeu as a partner, and about two years afterwards, we admitted each of us a son, and the firm then became, ' Horton, Depeu \&: Sons,' Our manufactured articles were sold in nearly every State in the Union, and also in many foreign countries, '' In 1862 we all sold out to a stock company, formed for that pur- pose, Having been in active business for thirty years, I now retired, In the spring of 18gs I was elected Supervisor of the town of Cort- landt, and I represented that town in the Board of Supervisors for five years in succession. ''In the winter of 18g8, I was a member of the Agislature from this Assembly District. For many years I held the various offices of our village, but of late have declined official stations, preferring the enjoyments of private life,'' MIr. Horton is not a public professor of Christianity, but is a gen- tleman of correct moral deportment, and very tcmperate in his ha'its, |
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| COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY CHARLES E. LAURIAT, JR. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Published October 1915 Copyright in Great Britain, Ireland, and British Colonies, and in all countries under the Convention, by Charles E. Lauriat, Jr. | corrRIGHT, IgI, BY CHARLRs E. LAURIA7, IR. ALL RIGHTS RESERvED Pblisked Octobrr rgg Copyright in Great Britain, Ireland, and British Colonles, and in sll countries under the Convention, by Charles B. Lauriat, Jr. |
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| TO MY FATHER WHO TAUGHT ME IN BOYHOOD TO SWIM, AND TO KNOW NO FEAR OF THE SEA AND TO MY MOTHER WHO FOUNDED THE FAITH THAT HAS BROUGHT ME THROUGH ALL THINGS I DEDICATE THIS BOOK | TO MT FaTHER WEO T1DaET E IN BOYHOOD TO SWTE, ANDD TO MY MOTEER I DEDICaTE TEIS BOOE |
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| THE ZONE Avert Thy gaze, O God, close tight Thine eyes! Glance down no longer on the ocean foam, Lest Thou behold such horrors as can turn Men’s burning hearts to ice, and chill their souls. Keep Thine heart warm and full of charity That Thou mayst yet be able to forgive, And pity feel for those who know not when To pause in deeds of ruthless sacrifice. Restrain Thy wrath, and keep Thine hand in check; Smite not, nor fiercely thrust without the pale Those who can dare to strew the ocean waste With fellow creatures, innocent of wrong. Forget the studied purpose to destroy; The launching of the missile through the deep; The shattered hull; the crushed and bleeding forms; The seething swirl of wreckage, women, men. ( vi ) | aA. ONE Avert Thy gaze, O God, close tight Thine eyes! Glance down no longer on the ocean foam, Lest Thou behold such horrors as can turn Men's burning hearts to ice, and chill their souls. Eeep Thine heart warm and full of charity That Thou mayst yet be able to forgive, And pity feel for those who know not when To pause in deeds of ruthless sacrifice. Restrain Thy wrath, and keep Thine hand in check; Smite not, nor fiercely thrust without the pale Those who can dare to strew the ocean waste Wih fellow creatures, innocent of wrong. Forget the studied purpose to destroy; The launching of the missile through the deep; Theshattered hull; the crushed and bleeding forms; The seething swirl of wreckage, women, men. ( vi) |
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| Remember that they know not what they do Who strike in deadly fear and ghastly hate; Remember that somehow, and at some time, Each crime exacts its human penalty. Remember that man’s conscience and man’s mind Are agents of Thy purpose and Thy plan, Which work within a deadlier revenge Than any shrapnel shot or sabre thrust. Remember that new generations come Upon whom fall the burden and the curse, The anguish of old hatreds and past wrongs, The crushing debt, the struggle and despair. Restrain, O God, the sweep of this vast hate; Recall the nations to their sense of shame: To those in blinding war, to us at peace, Reveal anew the message of the Christ. William Lloyd Garrison, Jr. (Reprinted by permission of the author and of the Boston Transcript) (vii) | Remember that they know not what they do Who strike in deadly fear and ghastly hate; Redmember that somehow, and at some time, Each crime exacts its human penalty. Remember that man's conscience and man's mind Are agents ot Thy purpose and Thy plan, Which work within a deadlier revenge Than any shrapnel shot or sabre thrust. Remember that new generations come Upon whom fall the burden and the curse, The anguish of old hatreds and past wrongs, The crushing debt, the struggle and despair. Restrain, O God, the sweep of this vast hate; Recall the nations to their sense of shame: To those in blinding war, to us at peace, Reveal anew the message of the Christ. Wuauast Luon GARRsoN, Ia. (Reprinted by permission of the author and of the Boston Tranrcripf) ( vl) |
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| THE LUSITANIA’S LAST VOYAGE PART I 6, New Oxford Street, London, W. C., May 12, 1915 Our voyage from New York had been uneventful and in fact it was quite a “Lauriat Crossing”; fine weather, smooth sea, and after the first few hours of Sunday (May 2) there had been no fog up to Friday morning (May 7), when it came in for a short time. The speed of the boat had not been what I had expected it would be, for after the first full run of 24 hours, in which we covered 501 miles, the run dropped each day to well below the 500 mark, and the last 24 hours up to ( 3 ) | rpY YY T T Yrrrv 4 K' + iw ANNIA'S YrtT LAST VOYAur. PAT I 0, NEw Ox>oan Sraser, LoNnboN, W. C., May 1z, 191\& OtR voyage from New York had been un- eventful and inn fact it was quite a ''Lauriat Crossing''; fine weather, smooth sea, and after the first few hours of Sunday (Mlay 2) there had been no fog up to Friday morning (May 7), when it came in for a short time. The speed of the boat had not been what I had expected it would be, for after the first full run of 24 hours, in which we covered 501 miles, the run dropped each day to well below the 500 mark, and the last 24 hours up to ( s) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE Friday noon (May 7) we made only 462 miles. This was partly accounted for by the fact that we picked up Greenwich time at Cape Clear and put the clock ahead 1 hour and 40 minutes. The reason this small run impressed itself upon my mind was that I expected that when we sighted the Irish Coast the “Lucy” would show a burst of “top speed” and that we should go flying up at not less than 25 miles an hour. The run up to Thursday noon (May 6) had been 484 miles, and so confident was I that she would put on steam that I bought the high number in the pool (for Friday), which was 499. It was the only pool I went into and I couldn’t help it, for the number sold at £3.0.0 and at that price it looked like a “bargain.” During the forenoon of Thursday (May 6) we swung out and uncovered 22 lifeboats, 11 on each side, showing Captain Turner’s pre- ( 4 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST vOYAGE Friday noon (May 7) we made only 46 miles. This was partly accounted for by the fact that we picked up Greenwich titme at Cape Clear and put the clock ahead 1 hour and 40 minutes. The reason this small run itmpressed itself upon my mind was that I expected that when we sighted the Irish Coastthe ''Lucy'' would show a burst of ''top speed '' and that we should go flying up at not less than 25 miles an hour. The run up to Thursday noon (May 6) had been 484 miles, and so confident was I that she would put on steam that I bought the high number in the pool (for Friday), which was 499. It was the only pool I went into and I couldn't help it, for the number sold at f3.0.0 and at that price it looked like a ''bargain.'' During the forenoon of Thursday (May 6) we swung out and uncovered g9 lifeboats, 11 on each side, showing Captaitn Turner's pre- ( 4) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE paredness towards emergency. I was keenly interested in all that was done aboard ship as we approached the Irish Coast, and in fact all through the voyage I kept my eyes unusually wide open. At night the shades in the saloon were closely drawn, and I noticed that my bedroom steward left a note for the night watchman stating just which ports were open when he (the steward) went off duty. Friday noon when the run was posted I was surprised, for I certainly thought that this was the time to put on speed. The sea was smooth as a pancake, an ideal chance for a dash up the coast. When I heard the fog horn early Friday morning I turned over and took another snooze, for there was no use in getting up if it was foggy and disagreeable weather. The fog did not last long and was nothing more than a morning mist. I got up at noon and had time for a stroll ( 5 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE paredness towards emergency. I was keenly interested in all that was done aboard ship as we approached the Irish Coast, and in fact all through the voyage I kept my eyes unusually wide open. At night the shades in the saloon were closely drawn, and Inoticed that my bedroom steward left a note for the night watchman stating just which ports were open when he (the steward) went off duty. Friday noon when the run was posted I was surprised, for I certainly thought that this was the titme to put on speed. The sea was smooth as a pancake, an ideal chance for a dash up the coast. When I heard the fog horn early Friday morning I turned over and took another snooze, for there was no use in getting up if it was foggy and disagreeable weather. The fog did not last long and was z:z734--- ( 4) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE around the deck before lunch at 1 o’clock. I noticed that we were not going anywhere near top speed and were following, as I remembered, the usual course up the Irish Coast, that being about 5 to 7 miles distant. I wondered at our loafing along at this gentle pace. When I bought my ticket at the Cunard Office in Boston I asked if we were to be convoyed through the war zone, and the reply made was, “Oh yes! every precaution will be taken.” When we got into Queenstown I found the people furious through the act itself and disgusted that three torpedo-boat destroyers should have lain at anchor in Queenstown harbor all the time the Lusitania was coming up the Irish Coast. Some of the men along the sea front told me that these boats had been out during the morning, but had come back for “lunch.” They all turned up after ( 6 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST vOYAGE around the deck before lunch at 1 o'clock. I noticed that we were not going anywhere near top speed and were following, as I re- membered, the usual course up the Irish Coast, that being about 5 to 7 miles dis- tant. I wondered at our loafing along at this gentle pace. When I bought my ticket at the Cunard OBice in Boston I asked if we were to be con- voyed through the war zone, and the reply made was, ''Oh yes! every precaution will be taken.'' When we got into Queenstown I found the people furious through the act itself and disgusted that three torpedo-boat destroyers should have lain at anchor in Queenstown harbor all the time the Lusitania was coming up the Irish Coast. Some of the men along the sea front told me that these boats had been out during the morning, but had come back for ''lunch.'' They all turned up after ( 4) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE the tragedy, but they could have been used to better advantage before it. After lunch I went to my stateroom and put on my sweater under the coat of the knickerbocker suit that I was wearing and went up on deck for a real walk. I came up the main companion-way and stepped out on the port side of the steamer and saw Mr. and Mrs. Elbert Hubbard standing by the rail, a little for’ard of the entrance. I joined them and was conversing with them when the torpedo struck the ship. In fact, Mr. Hubbard had just jokingly remarked that he didn’t believe he would be a welcome traveller to Germany, owing to the little essay he had written entitled “Who Lifted the Lid Off Hell.” Mr. Hubbard had not more than finished this remark when the shock came. This “essay” appeared in the “Philistine” for October, 1914, and Mr. Hubbard had given me a copy earlier on ( 7 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE the tragedy, but they could have been used to better advantage before it. After lunch I went to my staterootm and put on my sweater under the coat of the knickerbocker suit that I was wearitng and went up on deck for a real uuoalk. I came up the main companion-way and stepped out on the port side of the steamer and saw Mr, and Mrs, Elbert Hubbard standitng by the rail, a little for'ard of the entrance. I joined them and was conversing with them when the torpedo struck the ship. In fact, Mr, Hubbard had just jokingly remarked that he didn't believe he would be a welcodme traveller to Gerdmany, owing to the little essay he had written entitled ''Who Lifted the Lid O8 HeIl.'' Mr. Hubbard had not more than finished this remark when the shock catme. This ''essay'' appeared in the ''Philistine'' for October, 1914, and Mr. Hubbard had given me a copy earlier on ( 7) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE the voyage. If you want to read a piece of vitriolic English, I suggest that you send for a copy. Where I stood on deck the shock of the impact was not severe; it was a heavy, rather muffled sound, but the good ship trembled for a moment under the force of the blow; a second explosion quickly followed, but I do not think it was a second torpedo, for the sound was quite different; it was more likely a boiler in the engine room. As I turned to look in the direction of the explosion I saw a shower of coal and steam and some débris hurled into the air between the second and third funnels, and then heard the fall of gratings and other wreckage that had been blown up by the explosion. Remember that I was standing well for’ard on the port side, and consequently looked back at the scene of the explosion, at an angle across to the starboard side; therefore, al- ( 8 ) | THE LUSITANA'S LAST VOYAGE the voyage. If you want to read a piece of vitriolic English, I suggest that you send for a copy. Where I stood on deck the shock of the impact was not severe; it was a heavy, rather muffled sound, but the good ship trembled for a moment under the force of the blow; a second esplosion quickly fol- lowed, but I do not think it was a second torpedo, for the sound was quite different; it was more likely a boiler in the engine room. As I turned to look in the direction of the esplosion II saw a shower of coal and steam and some d\&bris hurled into the air between the second and third funnels, and then heard the fall of gratings and other wreckage that had been blown up by the esplosion. Iemember that I was standing well for'ard on the port side, and consequently looked back at the scene of the esplosion, at an angle across to the starboard side; therefore, al- ( s) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE though débris showed between the second and third funnels, I think the blow was delivered practically in line with the fourth funnel. I looked immediately at my watch and it was exactly 8 minutes past 9 (A.M.) Boston time, which means 8 minutes past 2 Greenwich time. I turned to the Hubbards and suggested that they go to their stateroom to get their life jackets. Their cabin was on deck B, on the port side, at the foot of the main companion-way, and they had ample time to go there and get back to the deck; but Mr. Hubbard stayed by the rail affectionately holding his arm around his wife’s waist and both seemed unable to act. I went straight down to my stateroom, which, as you will remember, was the most for’ard one on deck B on the starboard side. The boat had taken a list to starboard, but ( 9 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE though the d\&bris showed between the second and third funnels, I think the blow was de- livered practically in line with the fourth funnel. I looked immediately at my watch and it was exactly 8 minutes past 9 (a.M.) Boston time, which means 8 minutes past 9 Greenwich titme. I turned to the Hubbards and suggested that they go to their stateroom to get their life jackets, Their cabin was on deck B, on the port side, at the foot of the main com- panion-way, and they had ample time to go there and get back to the deck; but Mr. Eub- bard stayed by the rail affectionately holding his arm around his wife's waist and both seemed unable to act. I went straight down to my stateroom, which, as you will remember, was the most for'ard one on deck B on the starboard side. The boat had taken a list to starboard, but ( 0) |
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| THE LUSITANI'S LAST VOYAGE it was not acute, and so I had no difficulty in making my way to and from my cabin. I tied on a life belt, took the others in the room and my small leather case containing my business papers, and went up on deck to the port side. I went back to the spot where I had left the Hubbards, but they had gone, and I never saw them again. I found those who needed the life belts, put them on, tied them properly, and then went aft along the port side of the ship, for I was confident that all hands would naturally rush to the starboard side and so there would be more opportunity to help along the port side. I turned and walked for’ard toward the bridge, and Captain Turner and Captain Anderson were both calling in stentorian tones not to lower away the boats, ordering all passengers and sailors to get out of them, saying that there was no danger and that the ship would float. A woman ( 10 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE it was not acute, and so I had no dificulty in making my way to and from my cabin. I tied on a life belt, took the others in the room and my small leather case containing my business papers, and went up on deck to the port side. I went back to the spot where I had left the Hubbards, but they had gone. and I never saw them again. I found those who needed the life belts, put them on, tied them properly, and then went aft along the port side of the ship, for I was confident that all hands would naturally rush to the starboard side and so there would be more opportunity to help along the port side. I turned and walked for'ard towward the bridge, and Captain Tur- ner and Captain Anderson were both calling in stentorian tones not to lower away the boats, ordering all passengers and sailors to get out of them, saying that there was no dan- ger and that the ship would float. A woman ( 10 ) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE passenger beside me called out to Captain Turner in a perfectly clear and calm voice, “Captain, what do you wish us to do?” “Stay right where you are, Madam, she’s all right.” Then the woman asked him, “Where do you get your information?”—and he replied in rather a severe and commanding voice, “From the engine room, Madam.” She and I turned and walked quietly aft and tried to reassure the passengers we met. As I looked around to see to whom I could be of the greatest help it seemed to me that about everyone who passed me wearing a life belt had it on incorrectly. In their hurry they put them on every way except the right way: one man had his arm through one armhole and his head through the other; others had them on around the waist and upside down; but very few had them on correctly. I stopped these people and spoke ( 11 ) | THE LUSIANIA'S ILAST VOYAGE passenger beside me called out to Captain Turner in a perfectly clear and calm voice, ''Captain, what do you wish us to do?'' ''Stay right where you are, Madam, she's all right.'' Then the woman asked him, ''Where do you get your information?''- and he replied in rather a severe and com- manding voice, ''From the engine room, Madam.'' She and I turned and walked quietly aft and tried to reassure the pas- sengers we met. As I looked around to see to whom I could be of the greatest help it seemed to me that about everyone who passed me wearing a life belt had it on incorrectly. In their hurry they put them on every way escept the right way: one man had his arm through one armhole and his head through the other; others had them on around the waist and upside down; but very few had them on correctly. I stopped these people and spoke ( 1n) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE to them in a calm voice and persuaded them to let me help them on with the belts, for they certainly stood no show in the water rigged as they were. At first they thought I was trying to take their jackets from them, but on reassuring them they let me straighten them out. I had been watching carefully the list of the steamer, and by now I was confident that she wouldn’t float and that the end was coming fast. I remembered one or two personal things in my stateroom which I very much wanted, and I figured that I had time to go down and get them. If I didn’t come through the final plunge, I wanted to feel I had them with me, and if I did get through, I was just as sure I wanted them, so there didn’t seem anything to do but to get them, which I did. There was a companion-way for’ard of the main staircase, about half-way between it ( 12 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE to them in a calm voice and persuaded them to let me help them on with the belts, for they certainly stood no show in the water rigged as they were. At frst they thought I was trying to take their jackets from them, but on reassuring them they let me straighten them out. I had been watching carefully the list of the steamer, and by now I was confident that she wouldn't float and that the end was coming fast. I remembered one or two per- sonal things in my stateroom which I very much wanted, and I figured that I had titme to go down and get them. If I didn't come through the final plunge, I wanted to feel I had them with me, and if I did get through, I was just as sure I wanted them, so there didn't seem anything to do but to get them, which I did. There was a companion-way for'ard of the main staircase, about half-way between it ( 1e) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE and my stateroom, so I went along the port passage inside of deck A, down that companion-way, and along the starboard passage to my stateroom. It was not until I walked along this passage that I realized how acute was the list of the ship. My stateroom was an inside one without a porthole, and consequently could be lighted only by electricity. I pressed the switch, but the light had gone, so I put my hand on a box of matches; for each night when I retired I placed a box in a particular place, just in case I needed it. With the aid of these matches I found the little article for which I was looking, opened my travelling bag, and took out some papers which included my passport and other envelopes that could easily be slipped into my inside pocket. I had kept my drafts on my person, for I figured that there was no use in giving them to the purser, except as a precaution against ( 13 ) | TIE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE and my stateroom, so I went along the port passage inside of deck A, down that com- panion-way, and along the starboard pas- sage to my stateroom. It was not until I walked along this passage that I realized how acute was the list of the ship. My state- room was an inside one without a porthole, and consequently could be lighted only by electricity. Ipressed the switch, but the light had gone, so I put my hand on a box of matches; for each night when I retired I placed a bos in a particular place, just in case I needed it. WitU the aid of these matches I found the little artiele for which I was looking, opened my travelling bag, and took out some papers which included my passport and other envelopes that could easily be slipped into my inside pocket. I had kept my drafts on my person, for I figured that there was no use in giving them to the purser, except as a precaution against ( 1s) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE theft, and that was negligible. If what had happened was to happen, I knew there would be no time to reclaim them from the purser. I made my way back along the passage, walking in the angle formed by the floor and the side walls of the staterooms rather than the floor, and went back up the for’ard companion-way, the same that I came down. Going along the passage (on deck B) I looked down some of the cross passages that lead to the staterooms, and at the bottom of the ones I passed I saw that the portholes were open and that the water could not have been more than a few feet from them. Here let me state that I consider it most extraordinary that the portholes on the lower decks should not have been closed and sealed as we steamed through the war zone. At luncheon the portholes in the dining-saloon on deck D were open, and so I doubt not that all the others on that deck were open. ( 14 ) | THE LUSIANIA'S LAST VOYAGE theft, and that was negligible. If what had happened was to happen, I knew there would be no time to reclaim them from the purser. I made my way back along the passage. walking in the angle formed by the floor and the side walls of the staterooms rather than the floor, and went back up the for'ard companion-way, the same that I came down. Going along the passage (on deck B) I looked down some of the cross passages that lead to the staterooms, and at the bottom of the ones I passed I saw that the portholes were open and that the water could not have been more than a few feet from them. Here let me state that I consider it most extraor- dinary that the portholes on the lower decks should not have been closed and sealed as we steamed through the war zone. At luncheon the portholes in the dining-saloon on deck 1D were open, and so I doubt not that nll the others on that deck were open. ( 14) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE I mean those in the staterooms. I cannot speak with certainty in regard to the portholes on deck E. I believe that the first list the ship took brought her down to these open ports on the starboard side and that she sank much more quickly from filling through them. On my return to the deck I felt that the steamer must make her final plunge any moment now, and as there was nothing more that could be done on the port side—for there was no discipline or order with which to do it—I passed through to the starboard side. Men were striving to lower the boats and were putting women and children into them, but it seemed to me that it only added horror to the whole situation to put people into a boat that you knew never would be cleared and which would go down with the steamer; better leave them on the deck to let them take their chance at a piece of wreckage. ( 15 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE I mean those in the staterooms. I cannot speak with certainty in regard to the port- holes on deck E. I believe that the first list the ship took brought her down to these open ports on the starboard side and that she sank much more quickly from filling through them. On my return to the deck I felt that the steamer must make her final plunge any mo- mentnow,and as there was nothing tmore that could be done on the port side-for there was no discipline or order with which to do it-I passed through to the starboard side. Men were striving to lower the boats and were putting women and children into them, but it seemed to me that it only added horror to the whole situation to put people into a boat that you knew never would be cleared and which would go down with the steamer; better leave them on the deck to let them take their chance at a piece of wreckage. 1) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE True, there was no panic, in the sense that anyone crowded or pushed his way to the lifeboats, but there was infinite confusion, and there seemed no one to take command of any one boat. As I came out on the starboard side, I saw, a little aft of the main entrance, a lifeboat well filled with people, principally women and children, that no one had attempted to clear from the davits. The steamer was rapidly sinking, and I realized that the boat must be cleared at once if the people were to be saved. I climbed into the stern of the boat, which was floating flush with the rail of deck B, so far had the steamer settled, and helped clear the fall. We freed our end and swung the ropes clear, but we couldn’t make anyone for’ard understand what to do or how to do it. I remember looking for’ard and seeing ( 16 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S ILAST VOYAGE True, there was no panic, in the sense that anyone crowded or pushed his way to the Iifeboats, but there was infinite confusion, and there seemed no one to take command of any one boat. As I came out on the starboard side, I saw, a little aft of the main entrance. a Iifeboat well flled with people, principally women and children, that no one had at- tempted to clear from the davits, The steamer was rapidly sinking, and I realized that the boat must be cleared at once if the people were to be saved. I elimbed into the stern of the boat, which was floating flush with the rail of deck B, so far had the steamer settled, and helped clear the fall. We freed our end and swung the ropes clear, but we couldn't make anyone for'ard understand what to do or how to '4,aaswe we + == +==e ( 14) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE someone, I think it was a steward, bravely cutting away at the thick ropes with a pocket knife. How I wish he had had an axe! What would I have given for one real sailor man for’ard; we could have saved that boatload of people. I started to go for’ard, but it was impossible to climb through that boatload of people, mixed up as they were with oars, boat hooks, kegs of water, rope ladders, sails, and God knows what—everything that seemed to hinder progress to getting for’ard. The steamer was all the time rapidly settling, and to look at the tremendous smokestack hanging out over us only added to the terror of the people in the boat. I certainly did not blame them, for it was a harrowing sight, even to one as familiar with the ocean as I am. However, I should have gone for’ard and made the try, except that the stern end of the boat was ( 17 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE someone, I think it was a steward, bravely cutting away at the thick ropes with a pocket knife. How I wish he had had an axe! What would I have given for one real sailor man for'ard; we could have saved that boatload of people. I started to go for'ard, but it was itmpossible to climb through that boatload of people, mixed up as they were with oars, boat hooks, kegs of water, rope ladders, sails, and God knows what - everything that seemed to hinder progress to getting for'ard. The steamer was all the time rapidly settling, and to look at the tremendous smokestack hanging out over us only added to the terror of the people in the boat. I certainly did not blame them, for it was a har- rowing sight, even to one as familiar with the ocean as I am. However, I should have gone for'ard and made the try, ex- cept that the stern end of the boat was ( 17) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE raised by a small swell of the ocean and I was impressed by the nearness of the davit by getting a blow on the back which nearly knocked me overboard. Then I admit that I saw the hopelessness of ever clearing the for’ard davit in time to get the boat away, so I stepped out and made a try for it by swimming. I spoke to several and urged them to come; but truly they were petrified, and only my training from boyhood up, in the water and under it, gave me the courage to jump. I swam about 100 feet away from the ship and then turned around to see if anyone was following to whom I could lend a hand, and found several who needed encouragement. Also I wanted to see when the final plunge of the steamer came, that I might be the more ready to fight against the vortex and tell the others. The Lusitania did not go down anything like head first: she had, rather, settled along ( 18 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE raised by a small swell of the ocean and I was impressed by the nearness of the davit by getting a blow on the back which nearly knocked me overboard. Then I admit that I saw the hopeless- ness of ever clearing the for'ard davit in time to get the boat away, so I stepped out and made a try for it by swimming. I spoke to several and urged them to come; but truly they were petrified, and only my training from boyhood up, in the water and under it, gave me the courage to jump. I swam about 100 feet away from the ship and then turned around to see if anyone was following to whom I could lend a hand, and found several who needed encouragement. Also I wanted to see when the final plunge of the steamer came, that I might be the more ready to fight against the vortes and tell the others. The Lusitania did not go down anything lile head first: she had, rather, settled along ( 18) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE her whole water line. This convinces me that practically all the ports must have been open, even those as far down as Deck E. The stern did not rise to anything like a perpendicular, nor did it rise so high that I could see a single one of the propellers or even the end of her rudder. Not one of her funnels fell. The last I saw of the lifeboat out of which I jumped was that she was being pulled down, bow first, as the tackle had not been freed and the stern of the boat was rising high in the air. While the people were thrown out, they were not so violently thrown as those from some of the lifeboats that were dropped when half lowered into the water. There was very little vortex; there was rather a shooting out from the ship instead of a sucking in, after she sank; this I am told was partly caused by the water rushing into her funnels and being blown out again by ex- ( 19 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST vOYAGE her whole water line. This convinces me that practically all the ports must have been open, even those as far down as Deck E. The stern did not rise to anything like a perpendicular, nor did it rise so high that I could see a single one of the propellers or even the end of her rudder. Not one of her funnels fell. The last I saw of the lifeboat out of which I jumped was that she was being pulled down, bow first, as the tackle had not been freed and the stern of the boat was rising high in the air. While the people were thrown out, they were not so violently thrown as those from some of the lifeboats that were dropped when half lowered into the water. There was very little vortex; there was rather a shooting out from the ship instead of a sucking in, after she sank; this I am told was partly caused by the water rushing into her funnels and being blown out again by ex- ( 19 ) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE plosions made by the mixing of the cold water of the sea with the steam of the boilers. I saw an interesting statement in one of the papers, purporting to have come from Captain Turner, in which he stated that the small amount of suction was probably due to the fact that the bow of the boat was already resting on the bottom when the stern went down. This seems quite feasible, as she sank in about 60 fathoms (360 feet) of water and she was 755 feet long. The sea was wonderfully smooth, and it seemed to me that if one could keep clear of the wreck and pick up a lifeboat, that it could be manned and that we could go back and get many survivors. I was able to work this out quite as I planned. As I waited for the final plunge something caught me on the top of my head and slipped down to my shoulders, pressing me under the water; I couldn’t imagine what it was, ( 20 ) | TIE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE plosions made by the mixing of the cold water of the sea with the steam of the boilers. I saw an interesting statement in one of the papers, purporting to have come from Cap- tain Turner, in which he stated that the stmall amount of suction was probably due to the fact that the bow of the boat was already resting on the bottom when the stern went down, This seems quite feasible, as she sank in about 60 fathoms (860 feet) of water and she was 765 feet long. The sea was wonderfully smooth, and it seemed to me that if one could keep clear of the wreck and pick up a lifeboat, that it could be manned and that we could go back and get many survivors. I was able to work this out quite as I planned. As I waited for the final plunge something caught me on the top of my head and slipped down to my shoulders, pressing me under the water; I couldn't imagine what it was, ( eo ) |
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| THE LUSITANIA'S LAST VOYAGE but on turning to see I found that it was one of the aërials of the wireless that stretched from topmast to topmast. The present style of life belt, or rather jacket, is not the old-fashioned kind filled with hard cork, but a larger and more bulky affair filled with fibre, and when you have it on you look and feel like a padded football player, especially around the shoulders. When I shook this wire off my head, it caught me around the shoulders on the soft pad, and I couldn’t shake it off. It took me down under the water and turned me upside down. I tell you I “kicked.” I came up none the worse for my ducking, for it simply reminded me of one of my various trips down to see “Susy the Mermaid” when I was a youngster at Camp Asquam and the older boys used to duck us youngsters anywhere from five to fifteen times a day, according to the unpardonable sins we were supposed to ( 21 ) | THE LUSITANIA'S LAST vOYAGE but on turning to see I found that it was one of the aerials of the wireless that stretched from topmast to topmast. The present style of life belt, or rather jacket, is not the old-fashioned kind flled with hard cork, but a larger and more bulky affair flled with fibre, and when you have it on you look and feel like a padded foot- ball player, especially around the shoulders. When I shook this wire off my head, it caught me around the shoulders on the soft pad, and I couldn't shake it off. It took me down under the water and turned me upside down, I tell you I ''kicked.'' I came up none the worse for my ducking, for it simply reminded me of one of my various trips down to see ''Susy the Mermaid'' when I was a youngster at Camp Asquam and the older boys used to duck us youngsters anywhere from five to fifteen times a day, according to the unpardonable sins we were supposed to ( e1) |
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| Copyright, 1917, by L. Day Perry |
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| FOREWORD Woodworking shops in manual training schools far outnumber those for other manual activities, and as a result, courses in woodwork have come to be termed the stable courses in a handwork curriculum. However, experience in woodwork alone is not sufficient, and needs to be supplemented by other and more varied activities to give to the boy a proper foundation for choice of vocation. A definite way to produce necessary variety as applied to woodwork, especially if woodwork is the only course offered, is thru the use of such mediums as cane, reed, rush, splints and allied materials in correlation with the wood. These materials add life to the problems and generally arouse interest and enthusiasm in the work at hand. The result is careful application to construction details, with resultant appreciation of constructive design. It would prove a difficult task to make a fair estimate of the value such mediums have in manual training shops. Their use produces very definite reactions upon boys who could not be reached by woodwork alone, awakening them to a new interest in their work and making them more workmanlike and exacting in construction. There exists some element in such mediums which cannot be defined, but which nevertheless stimulates the average or mediocre boy, as well as the exceptional one, to produce the best work of which he is capable. Experience with these materials utilized in correlation with wood will prove the truth of these statements and demonstrate that they are not only worth while, but necessary to any well-rounded course in wood. The originals of the projects illustrated by the photographs were, with few exceptions, constructed by boys of average ability in the eighth grade. They indicate the character of work which may be 3 | \V 1-. v'942, .. rrwR,wORD WVVoodworking shops in manual training schools far outnumber those for other manual activities, and as a result, courses in wood- work have come to he termed the stable courses in a handw'ork curriculum. However, experience in woodwork alone is not suf- ficient, and needs to be supplemented by other and more varied activities to give to the boy a proper foundation for choice of vocation, A definite way to produce necessary variety as applied to wood- work, especially ii woodwork is the only course offered, is thru the use of such mediums as cane, reed, rush, splints and allied materials in correlation with the wood. 1hese materials add life to the problems and generally arouse interest and enthusiasm in the work at hand. The result is careful application to construction details, with resultant appreciation of constructive design. It would. prove a difficult task to make a fair estimate of the valne such mediums have in manual training shops, Their use produces very definite reactions upon boys who could not be reached by woodwork alone, awakening them to a new interest in their work and making them more workmanlike and exacting in con- struction. 'There exists some element in such mediums which cannot be defined, but which nevertheless stimulates the average or mediocre boy, as well as the exceptional one, to produce the best work of which he is capable. Experience with these materials utilized in correlation with wood will prove the truth of these statements and demonstrate that they are not only worth while, but necessary to any well-rounded course in wood. T'he originals of the projects illustrated by the photographs were, wwith few exceptions, constructed by boys of average ability in the eighth grade, They indicate the character of work which may be |
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| expected of boys in that grade, and, in a measure, the first two years of high school. Practically the entire emphasis is laid upon weaving as applied to some form of seat, either as a decorative feature or as a necessary part of the structure. These materials may be utilized in various ways on varied types and forms of furniture other than seats, a few of which are suggested. Experience with them will lead the worker to new and interesting fields of a distinctly educational nature. Joliet, Illinois, November, 1916. L. DAY PERRY. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Acknowledgments are hereby made to The Bruce Publishing Co., for permission to re-use the material in Chapters I and II which appeared in The Industrial Arts Magazine in a modified form; to The Periodical Publishing Co., for the photograph shown in the frontispiece; to M. F. Gleason, Joliet, for the sketches shown in Figs. 5, 6 and 8; to T. S. Moore, Joliet, for his cooperation in all the photographic work; and to the instructors in the Joliet Department of Manual Training who have assisted in working out a number of the problems. L. D. P. 4 | espected of boys in that grade, and, in a measure, the first two years of high school, Practically the entire emphasis is laid upon weaving as applied to some form of seat, either as a decorative feature or as a necessary part of the structure. T'hese materials may be utilized in various ways on varied types and forms of furniture othe than seats, a few of which are suggested. Experience with themmm will lead the worker to new and interesting fields of a distinctly educational nature. Joliet, Illnois, November, 1916. ACKNOWLETDGMIENTS L. DAY PERRY. Acknowledgments are hereby made to The Bruce Publishing Co., for permission to re-use the material in Chapters I and II which appeared in Th+ Industrial drt Iagazine in a modified form; to 'The Periodical Publishing Co., for the photograph shown in the frontispiece ; to MI. F. Gleason, Joliet, for the sketches shown in Figs, s, 6 and 8; to T. S. MIoore, Joliet, for his cooperation in all the photographic work ; and to the instructors in the Joliet Department of MIanual 'Training who have assisted in working out a nnmher of the problems. L. U. P. |
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| Courtesy, Periodical Publishing Co. A TYPICAL ALLEY SCENE IN HONG KONG SHOWING NATIVE MEN AND WOMEN SORTING AND STRIPPING RATTAN. 6 | i 9 w 4- A 4. s 4 o .e- '--t43. ez1 s =*s sg. s E\& \&G8 4 4- k .. s =. . --'s >N t r l . s x %%Lw> . 4', s4- i 1 sWs.- . s 4s s .'. - AA k, NH,.- w/ s8\&SSS. 'i ' - = 48EN -ys wep%L- ., eRs. ,P42- % ;S. - e=, xS58 V ,8AES seSS3NG.- - -. %.s'seSe- . S2 s- :-vS% e erre :-- ..acsA ---s : 6R 5 g \&4 WS' 4 - , 1y c4,, s sS-, . tsweä--=-- - - - ' . \&- k- '+' Y' .cec8S3:c +.' g H F S%s M--M SS* s +S3- . - - MAsN '4 ---- N 3.1 omtc y, POod(ca' Pbtshing ('o, 1 nYPIC VL AI 1LEY SEE 1 HONG KONG SIOWI0 NATIVE MEN A ND wo3IEN SORTIG AN1Y sTRpPSd RTTAN. |
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| CHAPTER I Caning; The Seven Steps That caning has not been undertaken to any appreciable extent in school shops is due to the fact that instructors are unfamiliar with the weaving processes. Caning is not difficult. It, in common with many other lines of activity, is best learned thru observation. However, it may be undertaken by the average person after careful study of printed directions and illustrations. If the worker will closely observe his own work as it progresses, and follows instructions carefully, he should have no unusual difficulty in caning an area very acceptably in the initial attempt. Particular attention should be paid to directions which tell of errors to avoid. Errors creep in, in a very unobtrusive manner at times, and the amateur will find them hard to detect. Cane.—Cane is the name applied to a great number of plants which possess long, slender, reedlike stems. The name should apply only to a class of palms called rattans. These plants are found thruout the Indian Archipelago, China, India, Ceylon, and the Malay Peninsula. They grow in dense, dark forests and form a matted undergrowth which makes passage difficult or impossible. These palms are trailing in tendency, yet frequently grow to tree height. They then fall over and lie on the ground. The stem is covered with beautiful green foliage, grows to a length of 100 to 300 ft., and rarely exceeds 1 in. in diameter. The stems are cut into lengths of 10 to 20 ft. for export. The outer bark is stripped into widths varying from ¹⁄16 to ³⁄16 in. These strips are put into hanks of 1,000 lineal feet each. The cane is then ready for the cane weaver. A hank of cane costs from 60 cents to $1. The width of the cane and its quality determines the price per hank. It may be purchased from any upholstery supply house. 7 | CHAPTER I CaS1Sc; T'g SFvES STEPs T'hat caning has not been undertaken to any appreciable extent in school shops is due to the fact that instructors are unfamiliar with the weaving processes, Caning is not difficult. It, in common with many other lines of activity, is best learned thru observation. However, it may be undertaken by the average person after carcful study of printed directions and illustrations, If the worker will closcly observe his own work as it progresses, and follows instruc- tions carefully, he should have no unusual difficulty in caning an area very acceptably in the initial attempt. Particular attention should be paid to directions which tell of errors to avoid. Errors creep in, in a very unobtrusive manner at times, and the amateur eill find them hard to detect, Cane.-Cane is the name applied to a great number of plants which possess long, slender, reedlike stems. The name should apply only to a class of palms called rattans, 1hese plants are found thruout the Indian Archipelago, China, India, Ccylon, and the MIalay Peninsula, They grow in dense, dark forests and form a matted undergrowth which makes passage difficult or impossible. These palms are trailing in tendency, yet frequently grow to tree height. They then fall over and lie on the ground, The stem is covered with beautiful green foliage, grows to a length of 1oO to 3OO ft., and rarely cxceeds 1 in, in diameter, The stems are cut into lengths of o to 2O ft, for export, The outer bark is stripped into widths varying from 1/ 16 to 4/6 in, These strips are put into hanks of 1,OOo lineal feet each. The cane is then ready for the cane weaver, A hank of cane costs from 6o cents to $1. Th+ width of the cane and its quality determines the price per hank. It may be purchased from any upholstery supply house, |
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| 8 SEAT WEAVING Cane is named from the narrowest to the widest in order: carriage, superfine, fine-fine, fine, medium, common, narrow binder, and wide binder. Cane from India has a very glossy surface, while that from other localities is duller. The right side of the cane is easily determined by this glossiness. Cane for weaving purposes should not be confused with the popularly called cane or bamboo of our southern states, where it forms the well known cane-brakes. This cane rarely exceeds a height of 20 ft. It grows rapidly and very straight, and to an appreciable diameter. Such cane is used for bamboo furniture, walking sticks, poles, etc. The ordinary domestic sugar cane, also, should not be confused with seating cane. Equipment.—The tools needed in cane weaving are few in number. A special one is called the caning needle. This may be made in the school shop. Fig. 1 shows a working drawing of the needle. Its length is variable, depending upon the work at hand. It is desirable to have a number of different lengths. The tool is made of good flexible steel wire. This is flattened at one end, an eye cut in it, blunt pointed, and slightly curved as indicated. The other end is inserted in an ordinary small tool handle, extended thru and riveted. The riveting prevents the wire from drawing out of the handle under a pulling strain. The other tools needed are a scratch awl, and a pair of scissors or knife. A button-hook with the hook straightened or cut off | SEAT WEAVING Cane is named irom the narrowest to the widest in order: carriage, superfine, fine-fine, fine, medium, common, narrow binder, and wide binder. Cane from India has a very glossy surface, while that from other localities is duller. The right side of the cane is easily determined by this glossiness, Cane for weaving purposes should not be confused with the popularly called cane or bamboo of our southern states, where it forms the well known cane-brakes. This cane rarely exceeds a height of 2o ft, It grows rapidly and very straight, and to an -q- cD p M- == ==== =====w====== -============= == [ 75 70 M f3 ==\<\<---------+- ----=+========== =-------=======w= -====== k--- 5 ---4 -+ e 5; i. \<\< 8 - FIG. 1. THE CANiNG NEEDLE. M - --- g -- appreciable diameter. Such cane is used for bamhoo furniture, walking sticks, poles, etc. The ordinary domestic sugar cane, also, should not be confused with seating cane. Equipment.-The tools needed in cane weaving are few in number, A special one is called the caning needle, This may be made in the school shop. Fig. 1 shows a working drawing of the needle. Its length is variable, depending upon the work at hand, It is desirahle to have a number of different lengths, T'he tool i made of good fleible steel wire, Thi4 i flattened at one end, an eye cut in it, blunt pointed, and slightly curved as indicated. 'he other end is inserted in an ordinary small tool handle, extended thru and riveted, T'he riveting prevents the wire from drawing out of the handle under a pulling strain. TThe other tools needed are a scratch awl, and a pair of scissors or knife. A button-hook with the hook straightened or cut off |
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| CANING; THE SEVEN STEPS 9 may take the place of the awl. A pair of dividers and rule are necessary for marking. Several wood pegs are needed. These may be classed with the tools. They are made from a ¼ in. dowel rod, or the equivalent. Cut them about 4 in. long and point them as you would a lead pencil. The amateur is inclined to use a number of pegs. Four should prove amply sufficient. Beginning the Operation.—Fig. 2 is a photograph of an upholstered leg rest with caned sides. This rest will be used for our initial work in cane weaving, inasmuch as the area for caning is rectangular. It is not advisable for the beginner to have his initial experience on a chair seat, for the area is usually of an odd shape, and arms, legs, and back interfere. However, any rectangular area on which there are no projections to bother may be used for the first trial. It is assumed that the sides of the rest have been fitted. The Fig. 2. Leg Rest. rails and stiles are then assembled with glue, without the posts. When the glue has set the proper length of time, and the frame is cleaned and sanded, the rails and stiles are ready to dimension. Draw pencil lines entirely around the inner sides of the rails and stiles, ½ in. from the edges. This distance remains constant, usually, on all areas and with canes the various widths. With a pair of dividers set at ¼ in. space off points on the pencil lines, starting from the intersection of the extended lines on each rail. Fig. 3 is a working drawing of a corner, dimensioned as suggested. It will make clearer the directions. It is fundamental that the spacing be done in the same direction on parallel rails, for at times | CANiNG; THE SEVEN STEPS may take the place of the awl. A pair of dividers and rule are necessary for marking. Several wood pegs are needed. These may he classed with the tools, They are made from a % in, dowel rod, or the equivalent. Cut them about y in, long and point them as you wouid a lead pencil, The amateur is inclined to use a number of pegs, Four should prove amply sufficient. Beginning the Operation.-Fig. 2 is a photograph of an up- holstered leg rest with caned sides. This rest will he used for our initial work in cane weaving, in- asmxuch as the area for caning is rectangular. It is not advisable for the beginner to have his initial euperience on a chair seat, for the area is usually of an odd shape, and arms, legs, and back interfere. However, any rectangular area on which there are no projections to hother may be used for the first trial, It is assumed that the sides of the rest have been fitted. The rails and stiles are then assembled a FIG. 2. LEG RESr. with glue, without the posts, When the glue has set the proper length of time, and the frame is cleaned and sanded, the rails and stiles are ready to dimension. Draw pencil lines entirely around the inner sides of the rails and stiles, %\& in, from the edges, Thi4 distance remains constant, usually, on all areas and with canes the various widths. With a . pair of dividers set at 99 in, space off points on the pencil lines, starting from the intersection of the extended lines on each rail. Fig. 3 is a working drawing of a corner, dimensioned as suggested. It will make clearer the directions, It is fundamental that the spacing be done in the same direction on parallel rails, for at times |
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| 10 SEAT WEAVING the last space will be a short ½ in. or whatever dimension is used. In such cases it is necessary to redivide the last several spaces into divisions as near ½ in. as possible. It thus becomes obvious why spacing must be done in one direction as stated. This applies to all rectangular frames. With a ³⁄16 in. wood bit bore holes thru the rails and stiles at the points marked. Countersink the holes slightly on the underside f the frame. This is not absolutely necessary but aids considerably in locating the holes, and in other ways. In shops where power machinery is available a vertical borer may be used for this purpose. It is best to carefully mark the points for boring with a center punch. The twist bit will then start accurately and the danger for getting out of line will be reduced to a minimum. The dimensions given here are for fine-fine cane. Use sandpaper to remove pencil lines and rough edges left from boring; then clamp the frame over the edge of a table or bench with a carriage clamp; sit while doing the weaving. The Seven Steps in Caning.—Fig. 4 shows the seven steps in caning. Refer to this photograph thruout the following directions. The numbers on the photograph refer to the steps. Step 1. A hank of cane should be soaked for a few minutes in warm water, or longer in cold. Do not soak it too long. Start a strand by drawing one end thru a hole next to a corner hole, and let it project about 3 in. below. Fasten with a peg. Then starting | SEAT WEAVING the last space will be a short 54 in, or whatever dimension is used. In such cases it is necessary to redivide the last several spaces into divisions as near G in, as possible. It thus becomes obvious why spacing must be done in one direction as stated, This applies to all rectangular frames, WVith a 3/16 in, wood hit bore holes thru the rails ahd stiles at the points marked. Uountersink the holes slightly on the underside -P-- -49- E FIG. 3. sKErcH oF coRNE HO eANING. of the frame. This is not absolutely neces- sary but aids considerably in louating the holes, and in other ways, In shlops where power machinery is available a vertical borer may be used for this purpose. It is best to carefully mark the points for boring with a center punch, The twist hit will then start accurately and the danger for getting out of line will be reduced to a minimum, 'The dimensions given here are for fine-fine cane. Use sandpaper to remove pencil lines and rough edges left from boring ; then clamp the frame over the edge of a table or bench with a carriage clamp; sit while doing the weaving. The Seven Steps in Caning.-fig. y shows the seven steps in caning. Refer to this photograph thruout the following directions. The numbers on the photograph refer to the steps. Step r, A hank of cane should be soaked for a few minutes in warm water, or longer in cold. Do not soak it too long, Start a strand by drawing one end thru a hole next to a corner hole, and let it project about ; in, helow. Fasten with a peg, Then starting |
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| CANING; THE SEVEN STEPS 11 at the peg, pull the entire strand thru the thumb and forefinger to prevent twisting, and pull the end down thru the hole on the opposite parallel rail next to the corner hole, and then up thru the hole next to it. See that the right side of the cane is out on the FIG. 4. THE SEVEN STEPS IN CANING. underside of the frame as on the top. Pull the cane reasonably taut, and fasten with a peg to prevent the strand from slipping back and becoming loose. Draw the cane thru the thumb and forefinger again; pull it across the frame and down thru the hole next to the peg and up thru the hole next to it. Pull taut and fasten with the | CANING; THE SEVEN STEPS at the peg, pull the entire strand thru the thumb and forefinger to prevent twisting, and pull the end down thru the hole on the opposite parallel rail nest to the corner hole, and then up thru the hole nest to it. Sce that the right side of the cane is out on the FIG. 4. THE SEVEN STEPS IN CANING. underside of the frame as on the top. Pull the cane reasonably taut, and fasten with a peg to prevent the strand from slipping back and becoming loose. Draw the cane thru the thumb and forefinger again; pull it across the frame and down thru the hole next to the peg and up thru the hole next to it, Pull taut and fasten with the |
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| 12 SEAT WEAVING second peg. This operation is repeated until all holes have been utilized on the two parallel rails, except those on the corners. Thruout the seven operations it is necessary that the cane be kept from twisting by drawing the remaining part of the strand thro thumb and forefinger. Step 2. The second step is identical with the first, with the difference that the other two parallel rails are used, and that the canes run over the first set of parallel canes. If the first strand of cane has not been entirely used up in the first step, the remainder is used to begin the second step. Step 3. This step is a repetition of the first two. The canes of this series run over the first and second series and parallel with the first. As each strand is used up bind the end by pulling it under a cane, crossing from one hole to another underneath the frame and cutting off about ¼ in. from the cane. Fig. 5 shows how this binding is done. The loose end at the starting point is tied in this way, and all subsequent ones should be tied as they come, thus avoiding interference by many pegs, and insuring neat binding. Step 4. The actual weaving begins with this step. It may be done entirely by hand, without resort to the needle, but it is slow work. The needle should be used. Start at a hole next to a corner on either rail that has been used but once, working from caned side toward the open frame. Go over and under the strands necessary to form the weave, turning the needle from side to side in order to catch the canes behind the point. When across thread the needle with the strand and pull thru, being careful to avoid a twist. Pull the end down thru the hole, pairing the canes. Pull the cane up thru the next hole; then start the needle from the opposite side of the frame and repeat the first operation, thus pairing another set of canes. Continue until all canes are paired and all holes used. Soak the woven cane with a wet sponge, and with two pegs straighten the strands of cane and force all pairs together. Small, | SEAT wEAvING second peg. This operation is repeated until all holes have been utilized on the two parallel rails, except those on the corners. 1hruout the seven operations it is necessary that the cane be ket from twisting by drawing the remaining part of the strand th thumb and forefinger. Step a. The second step is identical with the first, with the dif- ference that the other two parallel rails are used, and that the FIG. 5. METHOD OF TYISG ENDS OF CA NE. canes run over the first set of parallel canes, If the first strand of cane ha not been entirely used up in the firs step, the remainder is used to begi, the second step. Step 2. This step is a repetition of the first two, The canes o this series run over the first and second series and parallel with th. first, As each strand is used up bind the end by pulling it unde a cane, crossing from one hole to another underneath the frame and cutting off about 9 in, from the cane, Fig, 5 shows how thi binding is done. T'he loose end at the starting point is tied in thi way, and all subsequent ones should be tied as they come, thu avoiding interference by many pegs, and insuring neat binding. Step 1. The actual weaving begins with this step. It may b done entirely by hand, without resort to the needle, but it is slovi work, The needle should be used. Start at a hole next to a corne on either rail that has been used but once, working from caned side toward the open frame, Go over and under the strands necessary to form the weave, turning the needle from side to side in order to catch the canes behind the point, When across thread the needle with the strand and pull thru, being careful to avoid a twist, Pull the end down thru the hole, pairing the canes. Pull the cane up thru the next hole; then start the needle from the opposite side of the frame and repeat the first operation, thus pairing another set of canes, Continue until all canes are paired and all holes used. Soak the woven cane with a wet sponge, and with two pegs straighten the strands of cane and force all pairs together. Small, |
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| CANING; THE SEVEN STEPS 13 open squares are thus formed over the area being caned. Unless the cane is soaked it will prove rather difficult to pair the canes. Step 5. This step is the weaving of one set of diagonals. Start the strand at any corner hole. Use one hand over and one under the frame. As the worker becomes skilful he will find it easier to give the cane a slight curve and work with both hands on the upper surface. Use an end of cane long enough for convenient handling; then pull the entire strand thru the length of the frame, provided the area is not too great. Care must be taken to avoid twisting the cane. The cane will run easily, and partially under a cane at the corners of the squares, if correctly done. Fig. 6 shows this clearly, as does the illustration in Fig. 27. The second illustration is a photograph of a strip of cane webbing, is approximately half size, and will supplement the freehand sketch. The corners will bind, and the strand will pull with difficulty if the cane is incorrectly woven. On parallel canes note that the canes either run over or under the pairs. Step 6. This step is identical with the preceding one. The canes are at right angles to the first diagonals. In this step and the preceding one note that two strands run into the corner holes. This holds true in all rectangular frames where a corner hole is bored. It permits the strands to run in as straight a line as possible. If it is necessary to turn abruptly to enter a hole it is obvious that an error has been made by the weaver. Step 7. Pull a cane of the same size as used in the other steps up thru a hole, over the binder cane and down thru the same hole. A loop is thus formed and the binder secured. Pull taut, then | CANING; THE SEVEN STEPS open squares are thus formed over the area being caned. Unless the cane is soaked it will prove rather dificult to pair the canes. ' Step g, This step is the weaving of one set of diagonals, Start 1e strand at any corner hole. Use one hand over and one under 1e frame. As the worker becomes skilful he will find it easier co give the cane a slight curve and work with both hands on the upper surface. Use an end of cane long enough for convenient hand- ling; then pull the entire strand , thru the length of the frame, pro- ided the area is not too great. Care must be taken to avoid twist- ing the cane. The cane will run easily, and partially under a cane at the corners of the squares, if cor- rectly done. Fig. 6 shows this clearly, as does the illustration in A Fig. 27. The second illustration is a photograph of a strip ot can yyq. 6, rREEHaNnD sEETCH or webbing, is approximately half size, and will supplement the freehand caNING. sketch. The corners will bind, and the strand will pull with dii- culty if the cane is incorrectly woven, On parallel canes note that the canes either run over or under the pairs, Step 6. This step is identical with the preceding one. The canes are at right angles to the first diagonals, In this step and the preceding one note that two strands run into the corner holes. 1his holds true in all rectangular frames where a corner hole is bored. It permits the strands to run in as straight a line as pos- sible. If it is necessary to turn abruptly to enter a hole it is obvious that an error has been made hy the weaver, Step 7. Pull a cane of the same size as used in the other steps up thru a hole, over the binder cane and down thru the same hole. A loop is thus formed and the binder secured. Pull taut, then |
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| 14 SEAT WEAVING enter the next hole, pull up the cane over the binder and down, and so on. This operation may be repeated at every other hole when the holes are close together. The two ends of the binder are finally overlapped and secured, and the operation thus completed. At times, when the last strands are woven, it may prove advisable to secure canes underneath the frame by plugging the necessary holes; at least in instances where the canes have a tendency to work loose. SUGGESTIVE PROJECTS. | SEAT WEAVING enter the next hole, pull up the cane over the binder and down, and so on, This operation may be repeated at every other hole when the holes are close together. The two ends of the binder are finally overlapped and secured, and the operation thus completed, At times, when the last strands are woven, it may prove adviahle to secure canes underneath the frame by plugging the necessary holes ; at least in instances where the canes have a tendency to work loose. .w S'4GENTty; PhO1F(CT\&, -] |
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| CHAPTER II Caning Suggestions As weaving progresses difficulty will be experienced in inserting cane ends in the holes, due to their becoming filled. Force the scratch awl thru and turn it several times. This will effectively force an opening. In many instances long ends of cane remain from one series to another. These generally, as previously mentioned, should be used in succeeding steps. There is one limitation. They should be used provided it is not necessary to carry them over more than four holes on the under side of the frame. The fewer loose ends left, the better, for the caning is thereby neater and better. It is generally advisable to use a full length strand to avoid a number of loose ends. The amateur will find his greatest difficulty in properly weaving the diagonals at the edges; that is, immediately upon entering or leaving a hole. Many commendable pieces of caning are spoiled by ragged, improperly woven edges. Care must be taken to see that the cane goes over and under the proper strand or strands at these points. Fig. 6 clearly shows how the diagonals should run. Study it carefully. The addition of a binder is generally a matter of taste. Perhaps 50 per cent of modern hand caned furniture does not employ a binder of any description. The series of regularly exposed holes are rather pleasing and in no way detract. However, in chair seats a binder is essential to protect the ends of canes, for they are subject to hard wear. Binders of reed or of wood called “splines” may be used on hand-caned frames. If either is used a groove ¼ in. deep and ³⁄16 in. 15 | CHAPTER II CASISa SUacEsToSs As weaving progresses difRculty will be experienced in inserting cane ends in the holes, due to their becoming filled. Force the scratch awl thru and turn it several times. ''Thi4 ill effectively force an opening. In many instances long ends of cane remain from one series to another. T'hese generally, as previously mentioned, should be used in succecding steps, There is one limitation. They should he used provided it is not necessary to carry them over more than four holes on the under side of the frame. The fewer loose ends left, the better, for the caning is thereby neater and hetter. It is gener- ally advisable to use a full length strand to avoid a number of loose ends, 1he amateur will find his greatest difRculty in properly weaving the diagonals at the edges; that is, immediately upon entering or leaving a hole. MIany commendable pieces of caning are spoiled by ragged, improperly woven edges, Care must be taken to see that the cane goes oer and under the proper strand or strands at these points, Fig. 6 clearly shows how the diagonals should run, Study it carefully. 'The addition of a binder is generally a matter of taste. Perhaps sO per cent of modern hand caned furniture does not employ a binder of any description. The series of regularly exposed holes are rather pleasing and in no way detract. However, in chair seats a binder is essential to protect the ends of canes, for they are suhject to hard wear. Binders of reed or of wood called ''splines'' may be used on hand- caned frames, 1f either is used a groove % in, deep and 2/16 in, |
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| 16 SEAT WEAVING wide is cut coincident with the holes before weaving is begun. After the area is caned the strips are fitted and glued in. Use little glue. Tap the splines firmly with a mallet used over a block of wood, until they are flush with the woven cane. Chapter IV gives the method in detail. The size of the holes and the distance between them is determined largely by the size of the cane used. Some prefer coarse meshed areas, while others desire them closely woven. There is, however, what we may term a standard mesh. The individual may vary the dimensions given to suit himself. The Jacobean or early caning was invariably of coarse mesh. Carriage and superfine cane require ⅛ in. holes and ⅜ in. spaces; fine-fine cane requires ³⁄16 in. holes and ½ in. spaces; fine cane requires ³⁄16 in. holes and ⅝ in. spaces; medium, ¼ in. holes and ¾ in. spaces. Fine-fine and fine cane are the best sizes for shop use. A small amount of medium binder is desirable. One hank of cane will ordinarily be sufficient for a half-dozen areas of approximately 12 in. by 12 in. Most old pieces of period furniture utilizing cane employ a particularly narrow split horizontally and vertically, and a wider split diagonally. The opposite practice may be employed—a finer split of cane being used diagonally than horizontally and vertically. Both effects are pleasing. In all illustrations of rectangular areas shown herein, corner | SEAT wEAVING wide is cut coincident with the holes before weaving is begun. After the area is caned the strips are fitted and glued in, Use little glue. Tap the splines firmly with a mallet used over a block of wood, until they are flush with the woven cane. Chapter IV gives the method in detail, The size of the holes and the distance between them is deter- i a - -. - t FIc. 7. wINGBACK CEAIR. mined largely by the size of the cane used. Some prefer coarse meshed areas, while others desire them closely woven, There is, however, what we may term a standard mesh. The individual may vary the dimensions given to suit himself. T'he Jacobean or early caning was invarinbly of coarse mesh. Carriage and superfine cane re- quire ' in, holes and 4 in, spa- ces; fine-fine cane requires 3 6 in, holes and 4 in, spaces; fine canc requires 3 16 in, holes and 5 in, spaces; medium, in, hole- and 4 in, spaces, Fine-fine and fine cane are the best sizes for shop use. A small amount of medium binder is desirable. One hank of cane will ordinarily be suffcient for a half-dozen areas of approximately 12 in, by 12 in. NIost old pieces of period furniture utilizing cane employ a particularly narrow split horizontally and vertically, and a wider split diagonally, 1he opposite practice may be employed-a finer split of cane being used diagonally than horizontally and vertically, Both effects are pleasing. In all illustrations of rectangular areas shown herein, corner |
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| CANING SUGGESTIONS 17 holes are bored and utilized in the cane weaving. These are not absolutely necessary; in fact caned areas on many pieces of period and modern furniture do not utilize corner holes. In such instances two diagonal strands are run in each hole on either side of the corner. A comparison of the areas, the one employing a corner hole, and the other not, will lead the observer to conclude that the former appears complete while the latter appears unfinished. It is frequently necessary or desirable to cover up the cane on the back or inside of an article. This is true of places exposed to view, and is especially advisable on such pieces of furniture as the wingback chair shown in Fig. 7. This chair of William and Mary design was made in a school shop, is hand caned, and of mahogany. The exposed cane is covered with strips of mahogany ¼ in. thick and 1 in. wide in which a groove ⅛ in. deep and ⅜ in. wide has been run. This groove may be made with saw, chisel, or combination plane. Fig. 8 shows a sketch of such a strip. It makes a neat, pleasing cover. Many pieces of so-called expensive furniture have ragged, exposed caning. This is unsightly and is not to be commended. Wherever it is found desirable to leave cane natural, it is necessary that the frame be stained before caning is begun. Box fuming will not permanently color cane. Oil stains make no appreciable impression if rubbed off at once. But water, acid, and alcohol stains produce decided colors. If the worker desires to color the cane approximately the same shade as the article, the caning may be done on the white wood and the entire article stained at the one operation. Cane may be shellacked or varnished or left natural, as desired. Irregular Areas.—Fig. 9 shows a close view of the back of the chair illustrated in Fig. 7. This is a typical example of an irregular-shaped area for caning. The principles of weaving remain the | CANING SUGGESTIONS holes are bored and utilized in the cane weaving. These are not absolutely necessary ; in fact caned areas on many pieces of period and modern furniture do not utilize corner holes, In such instances two diagonal strands are run in each hole on either side of the corner. A comparison of the areas, the one employing a corner hole, and the other not, will lead the observer to conclude that the former appears complete while the latter appears unfinished. It is frequently necessary or desirable to cover up the cane on the back or inside of an article. Thi4 is true of places ex- posed to view, and is especially advisable on such pieces of furniture as the wing- A' back chair shown in Fig. 7. This chair ra. 8. sErc oP sramr of William and NIary design was made T0 OOYE CANE ENDS in a school shop, is hand caned, and of mahogany, The exposed cane is covered with strips of mahogany in, thick and in, wide in which a groove 9 in, deep and 9 in, wide has been run, T'hi4 groove may be made with saw, chisel, or combination plane. Fig. 8 shows a sketch of such a strip. It makes a neat, pleasing cover. NIany pieces of so-called expensive furniture have ragged, exposed caning, This is unsightly and is not to be commended. WVherever it is found desirable to leave cane natural, it is neces- sary that the frame be stained before caning is begun, Box fuming will not permanently color cane. Oil stains make no appreciable impression if rubbed off at once, But water, acid, and alcohol stains produce decided colors, If the worker desires to color the cane approsimately the same shade as the article, the caning may be done on the white wood and the entire article stained at the one operation, Cane may be shellacked or varnished or left natural, , as desired. Irregular Areas.-Fig. g shows a close view of the back of the chair illuustrated in Fig. 7. This is a typical example of an irregular- shaped area for caning. The principles of weaving remain the |
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| CANING SUGGESTIONS 19 FIG. 10. METHOD OF LOCATING HOLES ON WING OF CHAIR. this chair refer to Fig. 10. The left upright and lower rails are at right angles to each other. The upper rail is curved and the right upright slanted. Measurements are begun at the lower left hand corner and proper distances spaced on the left upright. With the arm of a try-square against this upright, points are marked on | - CANING SUGGESTIONS --- go* w= w ww 4 4. o- 9o* FIG. I0. METHOD OF LOCATISG HOLES OS WISG OE CHAIR. this chair refer to Fig. o. The left upright and lower rails are at right angles to each other. The upper rail is curved and the right upright slanted. MIeasurements are begun at the lower left hand corner and proper distances spaced on the left upright. WVith the arm of a try-square against this upright, points are marked on |
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| 20 SEAT WEAVING the opposite upright in line with those on the former. This operation is repeated on the lower rail and the upper curved one. Strands of cane will then obviously run parallel. Inasmuch as there are FIG. 11. CLOSE VIEW OF WING. five holes in the base and eight in the top it is necessary that three vertical strands be run into the slanting upright in any holes which will permit the strands to run parallel to each other. The photograph of the caned wing, shown in Fig. 11, should make very clear the foregoing explanation. Experience with several unusual shapes | SEAT wEAVING the opposite upright in line with those on the former. This opera- tion is repeated on the lower rail and the upper curved one. Strands of cane will then obviously run parallel, Inasmuch as there are FIG. 11. cLOsE vIEW oF WING. five holes in the base and eight in the top it is necessary that three vertical strands be run into the slanting upright in any holes which will permit the strands to run parallel to each other. T'he photo- graph of the caned wing, shown in Fig. 11, should make very clear the foregoing explanation, Experience with several unusual shapes |
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| CANING SUGGESTIONS 21 is necessary before the weaver feels confident of readily caning any area of odd shape. In weaving the diagonals it is frequently necessary to run several in one hole in order to keep the canes as straight as possible. Just when this should be done can only be determined by the worker. A diagonal should never be permitted to swing to any great degree out of a straight line. A close observation of the photograph of FIG. 12. CANING OF FIVE STEPS. the wing will reveal many diagonal canes in one hole, and several holes skipped entirely. Five-Step Caning.—Cane weaving of five steps is not common. It may be done in many cases where it will not be subject to hard wear. It is neat in appearance and is much simpler than seven-step caning. The presumption should not be made that this weave will in any way supplant the regular weave, but in instances where decoration is the object, and not service particularly, this weave will prove sufficient and effective. Fig. 12 illustrates a frame caned with the five steps. The distance between holes was purposely made greater than usual, to show the weave clearly. The first strands are strung in, in the same manner as described in the seven steps. The second series of | CANING SUGGESTIONS is necessary before the weaver feels confident of readily caning any area of odd shape, In weaving the diagonals it is frequently necessary to run several in one hole in order to keep the canes as straight as possible, Just when this should be done can only be determined by the worker, A diagonal should never be permitted to swing to any great degree out of a straight line. A close observation of the photograph of 7 A A 2 2 r A z SS 7a7 A 7 . A M , YI4. 12, caNSu oF FvEE sTEPs. A .4 8il 6 cs a \&E.8I 3rY : %g+ ) As sS ] r- ; @5- ; %. ; A.; the wing will reveal many diagonal canes in one hole, and several holes skipped entirely. Five-Step Caning.--Cane weaving of five steps is not common. It may be done in many cases where it will not be subject to hard wear, It is neat in appearance and is much simpler than seven- step caning. The presumption should not be made that this weave will in any way supplant the regular weave, but in instances where decoration is the object, and not service particularly, this weave will prove sufficient and effective. Fig. 12 illustrates a frame caned with the five steps, The dis- tance between holes was purposely made greater than usual, to show the weave clearly, The first strands are strung in, in the same manner as described in the seven steps, The second series of |
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| 22 SEAT WEAVING strands are interwoven with the first. The over and under weave is used. Each alternate row of each series is either over or under. The first diagonal strands run over the preceding two series. They are not woven as in seven-step caning. The second diagonal strands run over the first diagonals and under the intersection of the other strands, including every alternate first diagonal. This resolves itself into simple over and under weaving. Note that but one strand of a diagonal enters a corner hole. This is not true of seven- FIG. 13. DAVENPORT WITH CANED PANELS. -step caning, as elsewhere indicated. It is advisable to utilize a wider cane in the first two steps, than is used in the subsequent ones. The Design Element.—Caning is not a fad. Cane was commonly used in Carolean furniture in England about 1660, and has continued in use for seating purposes thru the various subsequent periods. The application of cane as used today on French furniture, as in panels, is historically wrong. However there can be no valid objection to its use in panels if no attempt is made to name it a true period style. Also it must be conceded that period furniture was not always well designed, and there can be no well sustained objection to the use of cane in panels, provided it is in keeping structurally and decoratively with the particular piece of furniture. | sEAT WEAVING strands are interwoven with the first. The over and under weave is used. Each alternate row of each series is either over or under. T'he first diagonal strands run over the preceding two series, They are not woven as in seven-step caning. The second diagonal strands run over the first diagonals and under the intersection of the other strands, including every alternate first diagonal, This resolves - itself into simple over and under weaving. Note that but one strand of a diagonal enters a corner hole. This is not true of seven- FHG. 13. DAVENPORT WITH CANEn PANELS. step caning, as elsewhere indicated. It is advisable to utilize a wider cane in the first two steps, than is used in the subsequent ones. The Design Element-Uaning is not a fad. Cane was com- monly used in Carolean furniture in England about 1660, and has continued in use for seating purposes thru the various subsequent periods. The application of cane as used today on French furniture, as in panels, is historically wrong. However there can be no valid objection to its use in panels if no attempt is made to name it a true period style. Also it must be conceded that period furniture was not always well designed, and there can be no well sustained objection to the use of cane in panels, provided it is in keeping structurally and decoratively with the particular piece of furniture. |
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| CANING SUGGESTIONS 23 The introduction of cane at first was undoubtedly brought about by a desire for something light, substantial and serviceable, and it blended well with the oak of the period. Cane is much used on modern furniture, and without doubt it adds to the beauty of the given pieces. In many cases the decoration is overdone and instead of improving the article the cane in reality detracts. Properly used, FIG. 14. ROCKER WITH CANED SIDES. FIG. 15. BOOK SHELVES WITH CANED PANELS. it enriches by breaking up flat uninteresting areas, and lightening the appearance of otherwise massive, cumbersome articles. Under proper correlation with wood in school shops it promotes an appreciation of constructive design in which the element of beauty is a prime consideration. It is a practical medium in which the aspect of design as an element of utility is paramount. It has distinct commercial value, for the boys who have had training in the shops may do chair seating outside and earn considerable money. By such work they come to see a distinct relation between the commercial field and their shop experiences. This is a point of view which is very desirable in present-day industrial education. | CANING SUGGESTIONS The introduction of cane at first was undoubtedly brought about by a desire for something light, substantial and serviceable, and it hlended well with the oak of the period. Cane is much used on modern furniture, and without doubt it adds to the beauty of the given pieces. In many cases the decoration is overdone and instead of improving the article the cane in reality detracts, Properly used, --- -1 u g ' FIG. 14. ROcKER WITII CA NED SIDEs, FIa. 15, HOOE sHELYES wITH CANED PANELS. it enriches by breaking up flat uninteresting areas, and lightening the appearance of otherwise massive, cumbersome articles. Under proper correlation with wood in school shops it promotes an appreciation of constructive design in which the element of beauty is a prime consideration, It is a practical medinm in which the aspect of design as an element of utility is paramount. It has distinct commercial value, for the boys who have had training in the shops may do chair seating outside and earn considerable money. lßy such work they come to see a distinct relation hetween the com- mercial field and their shop eperiences. Thi. is a point of view which is very desirable in present-day industrial education, |
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| 24 SEAT WEAVING Figs. 13, 14, 15, and 17 show pieces of furniture made in manual training shops by eighth grade boys. These pieces comprise a group, with the addition of the leg rest shown in Fig. 2 for a library or living room. The cane in each instance adds materially to the artistic effect of the problems; they have tone. The cane forms pleasing groups well related to the wood mass. The cane is natural, the wood fumed and finished flat. The two tones of color are in perfect harmony. FIG. 16. LIBRARY TABLE. FIG. 17. TABLE. SIDES CANED. Fig. 16 shows a library table of oak constructed by an eighth grade boy. The lines are very pleasing and the long vertical caned panel adds a distinct note to the structure even tho purely decorative. Many modifications of the standard weave in caning are in vogue, but are more or less fads. A “rotary” weave is rather prevalent on certain types of furniture, as is what may be termed the “spider-web” weave. These are mentioned merely to suggest that caning is subject to variation. However, the standard weave, of seven steps, will not be supplanted to any appreciable degree, for it adapts itself to almost all types of furniture both decoratively and structurally. | sEAT wEAvING Figs, 13, 1-4, 15, and 17 show pieces of furniture made in manual training shops by eighth grade boys. T'hese pieces comprise a group, with the addition of the leg rest shown in Fig. 2 for a library or living room. The cane in each instance adds materially to the artistic effect of the problems ; they have tone. The cane forms pleasing groups well related to the wood mass, The cane is natural, the wood fumed and finished flat. The two tones of color are in perfect harmony. .aauau aussssss=-- F u, 16. .RSRY TmLE. -4+ ---4 == } FIG. 17, TAHT.E. SIIES eANEI. Fig. 16 shows a lihrary table of oak constructed by an eighth grade boy, The lines are very pleasing and the long vertical caned panel adds a distinct note to the structure even tho purely decorative. MIany modifications of the standard weave in caning are in vogue, but are more or less fads, A ''rotary'' weave is rather preva- lent on certain types of furniture, as is what may be termed the ''spider-web'' weave. These are mentioned merely to suggest that caning is subject to variation. However, the standard weave, of seven steps, will not be supplanted to any appreciable degree, for it adapts itself to almost all types of furniture both decoratively and structurally. |
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| CANING SUGGESTIONS 25 It must not be presumed that the method described in Chapter I is the only one which may be employed in weaving this standard weave. There are several methods of weaving which arrive at the same ultimate result, but the one described is the simplest, and the most direct, and withal the one best adapted to general use, particularly to school-shop pupils. SUGGESTIVE PROJECTS. | CANING SUGGESTIONS It must not be presumed that the method described in Chapter I i4 the only one which may be employed in weaving this standard weave. There are several methods of weaving which arrive at the same ultimate result, but the one described is the simplest, and the most direct, and withal the one best adapted to general use, par- ticularly to school-shop pupils, SUGGESTIVE PROJECTS. |
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| CHAPTER III Reseating a Chair; Hand Caning In many localities it is impossible to find a professional to reseat caned chairs either by hand or with cane webbing. Many chairs in good repair and worthy are relegated to the attic because of broken or sunken seats. Upholsterers generally will not be troubled with such jobs of caning for the work does not pay unless there is an amount sufficient to keep them steadily employed. Usually they are not adept enough to do such odd jobs as may come to them, even tho willing to do the work, within a time consistent with sufficient money returns. Chairs of ordinary size may be caned for a minimum of $1 and a maximum of $2. If the holes have previously been bored, much labor is thus avoided, and the charge is naturally made less. The professional cane weaver has various ways by which he determines the cost for recaning a given seat. Perhaps the most common method employed is that of charging so much per hole. This is from 1 to 2 cents. The difficulty in handling very fine cane is also a factor in deciding what to charge. Usually a casual looking over of the chair by the expert is all that is necessary to fix a price. No charge of less than $1 on a hand caned seat will sufficiently remunerate the worker. Fig. 18 shows a hank of cane and rolls of machine woven cane. Any boy who has had instruction and sufficient experience in caning in the manual training shop may readily undertake jobs of caning. The boy who will investigate will find that he may work up a sizeable trade in chair seating in a short time. In fact several boys will not overcrowd a given field. Such work will pay the amateur well. He does not, nor cannot expect professional wages. It is of considerable value from the pupil’s standpoint alone, that is, this correlation with his manual school activities. The amount 26 | CHAPTER II REsEATISa A CHAR; HASD CANING In many localities it is impossible to find a professional to reseat caned chairs either by hand or with cane webbing. MIany chairs in good repair and worthy are relegated to the attic because of broken or sunken seats, Upholsterers generally will not be troubled with such jobs of caning for the work does not pay unless there is an amount sufficient to keep them steadily employed. Usually they are not adept enough to do such odd jobs as may come to them, even tho willing to do the work, within a time consistent with sufficient money returns. Chairs of ordinary size may be caned for a minimum of $1 and a maximum of $2. If the holes have previously been bored, much labor is thus avoided, and the charge is naturally made less, The professional cane weaver has various ways by which he determines the cost for recaning a given seat. Perhaps the most common method employed is that of charging so much per hole. This i. from 1 to 2 cents, The diffculty in handling very fine cane is also a factor in deciding what to charge. Usually a casual looking over of the chair by the expert is all that is necessary to fix a price, No charge of less than $1 on a hand caned seat will sufficiently re- munerate the worker. Fig. 18 shows a hank of cane and rolls of machine woven cane. Any boy who has had instruction and sufficient experience in caning in the manual training shop may readily undertake jobs of caning. The boy who will investigate will find that he may work up a sizeable trade in chair seating in a short time, In fact several boys will not overcrowd a given field. Such work will pay the amateur well. He does not, nor cannot expect professional wages. It is of considerable value from the pupil's standpoint alone, that is, this correlation with his manual school activities, The amount |
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| RESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANING 27 of pay initially is not the main question; it is the educational value derived. He would undoubtedly find willing help at his shop at any time a job of peculiar treatment presented itself. The Process.—Many chairs which the owners would wish hand FIG. 18. HANK OF CANE AND ROLLS OF MACHINE WOVEN CANE. caned have no holes bored for the work. They previously held machine woven cane. Fig. 19 shows a sketch of a chair bottom of ordinary or standard shape. The area is irregular. The sketch shows the method of determining the location for the holes. As stated in the discussion of the seven steps in caning, the holes are invariably ½ in. from the inner edges of the rails. In this instance the line from which the holes for the front rail are located is parallel with the front rail; it is coincident with the line on which the holes are bored. The line on the back rail must be parallel with it; the line runs thru the center of the center hole. The lines on the side rails are parallel to each other and at right angles | RESEATIN A CHAIR; HAND CANISG of pay initially is not the main question ; it i the educational value derived. He would undoubtedly find willing help at his shop at any time a job of peculiar treatment presented itelf. 1he Process.-NIany chairs which the owners would wish hand w au % - Ls=--. eE3H 1 ;74 E wAe f' m:ES- N-S 8 4G$,[ i4ä}eia 9ShIE:EHr ::::5 E a444 ::: thGHag;- H!HA BUI 2354amw . '' '.:N- aaaaa::::j: Ese7 4ss2'..4. u' A''A . , >A-=eSL33% A' - s1g9 w. 9SL. eo -- 'w 1 4 ae -=- l - ::::::::SR', %cc%, a + J SSL- 2- 8F' ES % au- - --4-r2wao6WS- l.=+- ,- 'Kt L. y447A g; ,:sS L . -, . - ] , L-a a'1 my EIG. 18. HA R OF CSNE 3ND ROLLS OF sIACOIT1SE WOVENN CASE. caned have no holes bored for the work, 1hey previously held machine woven cane, Fip. 10 shows a sketch of a chair bottom of ordinary or standard shape, The area i- irregular. The ketch shows the method of determining the location for the holes, As stated in the diacussion of the seven -teps in caning, the holes are inyariahly 1 in, from the inner edges of the rails, In thi. instance the line fromy which the holes for the front rail are located is parallel with the front rail; it i, coincident with the line on which the holes are bored, The line on the back rail must be parallel with it; the line runs thru the center of the center hole, 1he lines on the side rails are parallel to each other and at right angles |
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| 28 SEAT WEAVING to the first two. These four lines are shown as dash lines on the drawing. Their function is simply to determine the location for the holes to be bored on the lines ½ in. from the inner edges of the rails. Those lines are shown in the sketch as full lines. FIG. 19. SKETCH OF CHAIR SEAT OF ODD SHAPE, SHOWING METHOD OF FINDING LOCATION OF HOLES. When the working lines are determined, the centers of the front and back lines are located. The lines connecting corresponding holes on the front and back rails must be parallel to the line connecting the center holes on these rails. This rule applies to the locating of the holes on the side rails. It also applies to any seat of odd shape. The distance between holes will vary somewhat at | SEAT WEAVING to the first two. T'hese four lines are shown as dash lines on the drawing. Their function is simply to determine the location for the holes to be bored on the lines 94 in, from the inner edges of the rails. T'hose lines are shown in the sketch as full lines, --4--- -- ] -- T: -- k- --r- - --- l4- - -- --+-- - - ] -S- ---- FRONT -- -- - - - -ll BACN FIG. 19. 8KETCH OF CHAIR 8EAT OF ODD SHAPE, SIIOWISG MET1IOD OF PISDING LOCATION oF HOLES. When the working lines are determined, the centers of the front and back lines are located. he lines connecting corresponding holes on the front and back rails must be parallel to the line con- necting the center holes on these rails. This rule applies to the locating of the holes on the side rails, It also applies to any seat of odd shape. The distance between holes will vary somewhat at |
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| RESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANING 29 different places on the seat frame. This is the result of working to rule, and is necessary to keep strands equidistant and parallel. At times respacing at several places will be necessary. When it is, simply redivide into as nearly the given dimensions as possible. After the holes have been bored and cleaned the seat is ready for caning. Start at the center hole in the back. Pull the cane up FIG. 20. FIRST STEP HALF COM- FIG. 21. FIRST STEP COMPLETED. PLETED. SECOND BEGUN. thru this hole and across the frame, and down the center hole in the front. Work both ways on the frame. Fig. 19 shows a cane started in this manner. It is best that the amateur work from the center, both ways. He may begin otherwise when he understands the work better. The caning operations on the seat to be shown are the same as those described in the seven steps in caning. They never vary. The only new thing involved here is the shape of the seat. Fig. 20 is a photograph of a chair seat of an odd shape, an irregular ellipse. It shows the first step half completed. Note here that the last strand skips two holes, one at the front and one at the back. This is necessary to keep strands as nearly the same distance apart as possible. Fig. 21 shows the first step completed | RESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANING different places on the seat frame. Thi4 i the result of working to rule, and is necessary to keep strands equidistant and parallel, At times respacing at several places will be necessary, WVhen it is, simply redivide into as nearly the given dimensions as possible. After the holes have been bored and cleaned the seat is ready for caning. Start at the center hole in the tack. Pull the cane up FIG. 20. FIRST STEP HAILF C0M- FIG. 21. FIRST STEP COMPETED. PLETED. SECOND BEGUN. thru this hole and across the frame, and down the center hole in he front. WVork both ways on the frame. Fig. 10 shows a cane started in this manner. It is best that the amateur work from the center, both ways, He mav begin otherwise when he understands the work better, The caning operations on the seat to be shown are the same as those described in the seven steps in caning. T'hey never vary, The only new thing involved here is the shape of the seat, Fig. 20 is a photograph of a chair seat of an odd shape, an irregular ellipse. It shows the first step half completed. Note here that the last strand skips two holes, one at the front and one at the back, This is necessary to keep strands as nearly the same distance apart as possible, Fig, 2I shows the first step completed |
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| 30 SEAT WEAVING and the second partially so. It is not necessary to start at the center with this series, altho it is advisable with the beginner. Note that two holes have been skipped here, as in the first step. Fig. 22 shows the second step finished and the third under way. These strands run directly over those of the first series. Pegs are always FIG. 22. THE SECOND STEP FINISHED FIG. 23. THE THIRD STEP COMPLETED AND THE THIRD UNDER WAY. AND THE FOURTH UNDER WAY. THE CANIND NEEDLE IN USE. sed to keep strands taut. Their proper use has been explained. Fig. 23 shows the third step completed and the fourth under way. This shows the actual weaving, and the method of using the needle. It has been pushed thru in the manner previously described; and is shown threaded, ready to be pulled back, thus making the weave. The needle may not be used, but will do the work rapidly. Handwork alone here is tedious. Fig. 24 shows the diagonal weave under way. In Fig. 25 this weave is completed and the second diagonal started. Fig. 26 shows the method of fastening the binder. This has been described. The first three series of strands should not be pulled very tight, | SEAT WEAVING and the second partially so, It is not necessary to start at the center with this series, altho it is advisable with the beginner, Note that two holes have been skipped here, as in the first step. Fig, 22 shows the second step finished and the third under way, These strands run directly over those of the first series. Pegs are always YIa. 22. THE sEcoNDD STEP FINIsHEDD FIG. 23. TIE THRD sTEP c0xPLETED AND THE THIRD UNDER WaY. AND THE FOUETH UNDER WAY, TEE OAx1xSa NEEmr,E ISS t'SE. used to keep strands taut. Their proper use has been explained. Fig, 23 shows the third step completed and the fourth under way, Ihis shows the actual weaving, and the method of using the needle. It has been pushed thru in the manner previously described ; and is shown threaded, ready to be pulled back, thus making the weave. The needle may not be used, but will do the work rapidlr, Hand- work alone here is tedious, Fig. 2; shows the diagonal weave under way, In Fig, 25 this weave is completed and the second diagonal started. Fig. 26 shows the method of fastening the binder. T'his has been described. The first three series of strands should not be pulled very tight, |
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| RESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANING 31 otherwise the final weaving will prove difficult. The finished seat, when dry, should ring when struck sharply with the fingers. The method of tying cane, preventing twists, etc., has been explained. Reference should be made to these points, when anything is not fully understood in this discussion of chair seating. FIG.24. THE FIRST DIAGONAL WEAVE FIG. 25. FIRST DIAGONAL COMPLETED UNDER WAY. THE FIFTH STEP. AND THE SECOND BEGUN. THE SICTH STEP. Note that many holes have been skipped in each series, especially in the last two, and also that more than one diagonal of a given series enters the same hole. In every case it will enter that hole which leaves its course in as straight a line as possible. In rectangular areas it is never necessary to run two diagonals into the same hole, except at the corners. This applies to two diagonals of the same series. Refinishing.—The refinishing of a chair is a distinct problem, and one which the cane weaver should understand. He should acquire ability for finishing along with skill in caning, inasmuch as a chair which needs a new seat invariably is in need of refinish- | RESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANIN otherwise the final weaving will prove difRcul. The finished seat, when dry, should ring when struck sharply with the fingers. 1he method of tying cane, preventing twists, etc., has been ex- plained. Reference should be made to these points, when anything is not fully understood in this discussion of chair seating. -Gez ks. s ssY '- -- -? -. .: + FI.24. THE FRST mAaOSAI, WEAE FIG. 25. RST DIAGONAL CoMPLETRDD t'SnER WAY. THE FIPTII STEP. AND TIIE SECOND BEGCN. TEE sISTH STEP. Note that many holes have been skipped in each series, especially in the last two, and also that more than one diagonal of a given series enters the same hole. In every case it will enter that hole which leaves its course in as straight a line as possible. In rect- angular areas it is never necessary to run two diagonals into the same hole, except at the corners, T'his applies to two diagonals of the same series. Refinishing-The refinishing of a chair is a distinct problem, and one which the cane weaver should understand. He should acquire ability for finishing along with skill in caning, inasmuch as a chair which needs a new seat invariably is in need of refinish- |
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| RESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANING 33 ring the varnished frame. If the needle is used in the fourth step the frame needs protection from it. Pieces of bristol or card board may be placed under the needle on either side of the frame. The needle is bound to mar the surface of the frame if this precaution is not taken. In many instances it is policy to cane the seat after the old finish has been removed; this to avoid any possibility of marring the seat frame later. However, it is better practice to refinish the chair first, and cane the seat last. SUGGESTIVE PROJECTS. | HESEATING A CHAIR; HAND CANING ring the varnished frame. If the needle is used in the fourth step the irame needs protection from it. Pieces of bristol or card board may be placed under the needle on either side of the frame. The needle is bound to mar the surface of the frame if this precaution is not taken, In many instances it is policy to cane the seat after the old finish has been removed ; this to avoid any possibility of marring the seat frame later. However, it is better practice to refinish the chair first, and cane the seat last, we - , A sUaGESTIvE PR6IECTS. ac--W=owew====e -----==- === -.aaaaaaaaaJ- |
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| CHAPTER IV Reseating a Chair; Cane Webbing The seating of chairs with machine woven cane is a much simpler process than that of hand caning them. Under similar conditions less time and skill are required on areas of like dimensions. Machine woven cane, as its name implies, is a manufactured product made on power looms or machines. Commercially it is sold under the name of cane webbing. It is obtainable in widths ranging from 8 in., increasing by 2 in., to 18 in., and in rolls of indefinite lengths. It may be procured in meshes of varying fineness, utilizing cane of various sizes. In specifying open woven cane it is necessary that the purchaser indicate his wants in essentially this way: Ten feet medium open woven cane webbing, of No. 1 fine cane, 12 in. wide. A roll of such cane has been referred to in Fig. 18. Cane webbing may also be purchased in close woven, in both the plain and diagonal weaves. The specifications for purchasing are identical with the open woven except that the term close woven is specified together with the character of weave. Fig. 27 shows cane webbing approximately half size, in open and close woven meshes. As in hand caning, any boy with proper inclination who has had the necessary experience in the shops, may avail himself of the opportunities for seating chairs in his community. The educational and pecuniary advantages are identical to those mentioned in relation to hand caning. The relative ease with which he may acquire skill in handling the materials precludes satisfactory workmanship for prospective customers. The cost of jobs is readily determined, for the amount and cost of webbing is easily ascertained, and experience soon determines the length of time required. Cane webbing costs approximately 34 | CHAPTER IV REsEATISa A CHAR; CaNE WEBBNa 1The seating of chairs with machine woven cane is a much simpler process than that of hand caning them. Under similar conditions less time and skill are required on areas of like dimensions. MIachine woven cane, as its name implies, is a manufactured product made on power looms or machines. Commercially it is sold under the name of cane webbing. It is obtainable in widths ranging from 8 in., increasing by 2 in., to 18 in,, and in rolls of indefinite lengths. It may be procured in meshes of varying fineness, utilizing cane of various sizes, In specifying open woven cane it is necessary that the purchaser indicate his wants in essentially this way : Ten feet medium open woven cane webbbing, of No, 1 fine cane, 12 in, wide, A roll of such cane has been referred to in Fig. 18. Cane webbing may also be purchased in close woven, in both the plain and diagonal weaves. The specifications for purchasing are identical with the open woven except that the term close woven is specified together with the character of weave, Fig, 27 shows cane webbing approximately half size, in open and close woven meshes. As in hand caning, any boy with proper inclination who has had the necessary experience in the shops, may avail himself of the opportunities for seating chairs in his community, The educational and pecuniary advantages are identical to those mentioned in rela- tion to hand caning. The relative ease with which he may acquire skill in handling the materials precludes satisfactory workmanship for prospective customers. The cost of jobs is readily determined, for the amount and cost of webbing is easily ascertained, and experience soon determines the length of time required. Cane webbing costs approximately |
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| RESEATING A CHAIR; CANE WEBBING 35 as follows: For 12 in. widths, 21 cents; 14 in. widths, 26 cents; 16 in. widths, 30 cents; and 18 in. widths, 38 cents. This cost applies to open woven and is the charge per running foot. Close woven is sold by the square foot at about 30 cents, regardless of width. It is possible to procure special wide widths, but these are not generally found on the open market. For example, a chair seat which requires a 12 in. square of open FIG. 27. OPEN AND CLOSE WOVEN FIG. 28. THE SEAT FRAME WITH CANE. WEBBING AND TOOLS. woven webbing, and which has the groove made, may be reseated for 50 cents. The entire job could be finished in about half an hour. This may be made less if several chairs are to be reseated at a time. However, it may be termed the minimum charge consistent with fair money returns. There are instances when the seat frame requires grooving, and inasmuch as running it in by hand is a laborious and tedious process the worker must of necessity carefully estimate time before he determines upon charge. The Process.—The following may be termed the steps in inserting cane webbing. No special difficulty should be encountered in properly seating the frame at the first attempt. Step 1. Fig. 28 shows a commercial chair seat with groove cut by a router after it has been assembled. There are no angles on the seat. The groove is standard, with dimensions ¼ in. deep and ³⁄16 in. wide. This groove may be cut by hand with a universal | RESEATING A CHAIR; CANE WEBBING as follows: For 2 in, widths, 2I cents; 1y in, widths, 26 cents; 16 in, widths, 30 cents; and 18 in, widths, 38 cents, This cost applies to open woven and is the charge per running foot. Close woven is sold by the square foot at about 30 cents, regardless of width. It is possible to procure special wide widths, but these are not generally found on the open market, . For example, a chair seat which requires a 12 in, square of open i- -- TT --- -- = - - - - ------ -----------. [ wN s TTa. 27. oPEN AND er,osE wovEN FIG. 2S. THE REAT PEEE WTH CANE. wEEBIG AND TO0LS. woven webbing, and which has the groove made, may be reseated for so cents, T'he entire job could be finished in about half an hour. This may be made less if several chairs are to be reseatel at a time, However, it may be termed the minimum charge con- sistent with fair money returns, There are instances when the seat frame requires grooving, and inasmuch as running it in by hand is a laborious and tedious process the worker must of necessity carefully estimate time before he determines upon charge. The Process.-The following may be termed the steps in insert- ing cane webbing. No special difficulty should be encountered in properly seating the frame at the first attempt. Step , Fig, 28 shows a commercial chair seat with groove cut by a router after it has been assembled, T'here are no angles on the seat, T'he groove is standard, with dimensions 94 in, deep and 3/16 in, wide. T'his groove may be cut by hand with a universal |
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| 36 SEAT WEAVING plane and chisel before permanently assembling the parts. In fact this is a necessary procedure in grade schools and other schools where special machine tools are unavailable. The necessary tools for pressing in the webbing lie near the frame, Fig. 28. These are a small mallet, a chisel, and several hard wood wedges. The wedges are made in several widths, to enable them to enter the FIG. 29. INSERTING THE CANE FIG. 30. TRIMMING THE EDGES. WEBBING. groove at the abrupt curves, are 4 in. long of ¼ in. stock, tapered to ⅛ in. on the faces. Step 2. The cane should be boiled in water for a minute or so, or allowed to soak for several minutes in warm water until thoroly pliable. Then lay it on the frame and cut it to the shape of the seat, allowing half an inch excess around the entire piece. A pattern of card or bristol board will prove of material assistance to the amateur as well as the expert. The front line or edge of the pattern must run parallel with the horizontal or vertical strands of cane. Pull out all weavers at the edges of the piece of cane where they run over and parallel with the groove. Then lay the webbing over the frame, and see that the weavers run parallel with the front of the frame. With wedge and mallet as illustrated in Fig. 29 begin at the front and force the webbing into the groove. Insert on the opposite side next, then the other two sides in order. The curves may be done last. | SEAT WEAVING plane and chiuel before permanently assembling the parts. In fact this is a necessary procedure in grade schools and other schools where special machine tools are unavailable. The necessary tools for pressing in the webbing lie near the frame, Fig. 28. These are a small mallet, a chisel, and several hard wood wedges, The wedges are made in several widths, to enahle them to enter the ]e. lsre s- [ c4' . F1a. 29. 1SsERTINa THE cANE Ya, 30, Td1SG THE EnuTS, wEDBING. groove at the abrupt curves, are in, long of in, stock, tapered to % in, on the faces. Step a. The cane should be boiled in water for a minute or so, or allowed to soak for several minutes in warm water until thoroly pliahle. Then lay it on the frame and cut it to the shape of the seat, allowing half an inch excess around the entire piece. A pattern of card or bristol board will prove of material assistance to the amateur as well as the expert. The front line or edge of the pattern must run parallel with the horizontal or vertical strands of cane. Pull out all weavers at the edges of the piece of cane where they run over and parallel with the groove. Then lay the webbing over the frame, and see that the weavers run parallel with the front of the frame. Wih wedge and mallet as illustrated in Fig. 29 begin at the front and force the webbing into the groove. Insert on the opposite side next, then the other two sides in order. The curves may be done last. |
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| RESEATING A CHAIR; CANE WEBBING 39 FIG. 35. FRAME ILLUSTRATING STEPS IN INSERTING WOVEN CANE. | 1EBSEATING N CHAIR; CANE WEHT3ING *-s- =--- a. -Kwel4 4 4'4;wf6.s'o!+W P 4 e e,e'e s e,e e e e;ete e,e,e' ? e e e e e e e.9;4,4.4;e;e.e 9 e' e e e;e'e'e:e;e,e,e,e;e:e;e;e'4 ? 4 e e e e o.4 4. 9.4;474]4;,4 3 4 e e e s.4 e.9 4,9.4;e;e'e,e e a e e e e efe e:e.e:e'e 4'e,e e' b e e e e e,e e;e:e e.e'e,e'e;e,e' a o e e e e;4,9,4,9,s'w,9'4 4 4 4 e e 9 9.8}4;9'4;94;9,9:e;e'e' o e e o e,ee;='e;e 9;4'f4T e e,4 4 4'4'4,4'4,43j,e'.4 4 = s.4.,9 4;e,;94[4;4,.4; e,s'4e e;e,9e 4=;4;efels.4: -= 4 4;4 s.;93;4;4=fej4'4 w e:e efsSe'e s :e;e'e;e:4 .ofe s'e e,4'4;9;e,9 4;4;4:e.e e [ ------------- 4.e:e:e,e'e;w'4[e4;4, 4 4 .o 4 4.4 4.4349e'ls e ,e e s'e:e e'efe'e,e,e;e;efe,e a- MY --w= r t r w. 9.eI 4 4,% $ - s l::::z:84 [ 5 4 e e W 4 e e e e e e e e e,4 A 4.e e e e e,0,e e e e e e e,e j e,e.e e e e,e e e 4 4 e,e e,e ' 1 5 0.0,0'e e 9,e e e e e e e.4.0, ) 9.4 9.e.4 e e e.e e e e e e e e ] e e,4 4,e,4 4 4 4 e.e e e e e 4 {-' ------------l $:4,e,e44Te;e.e e e e e e e p $ e,e;e,e ,4 4.e e.e e e,e e 4 y e e e e;e e 4 'e 9 e,e e e,e.e'e m e e e,e:e e e e e,e,e,e'e e;4,4, m,e e,e e:e e e e,e e e,e,e,e,e,e k 4,4 4,e'4 4'4 9 e e.e.4(4:4.4,8'y , ) 4,e e e e,e,e.e e,e.e,e(e;e,e.e j i e e e e,e e,e e,e e,e,e'e e e e e,e'e e e e e;e;e e,e e' e e e,e e.4Ie e e.e.e e,e,e 4 4,4 4.4,e , 4,4,e,e e.4.e,e.4 e'4 4 e;e;4 t e e e,e;4 e,e.e e e,ee,e;e;e e, .e 4.4 4;424.9.4.9.4'e.4 e;e'4.4) j 4.4'4 44''''4:4,4'4, 44;4 : .': 'e ' au' '' '4U y.4;w 4.4,w.4' w44'w'ej ; +4:,9,44,4 ,4o;,w'4;;42 t9;434:4f4;4.4;44f4W;f4 g4;9A.4 4 4;,4.4,4,64,9,3,.] [4:4s';4 4.4.4 4,s;9:4 +4;4;43 [ [.4:4 4 9.4 e,s.4 e'efe eAe.4'e e; ! 4;4'3.,4;4.4.4;4,4.4 44 ygj44.4.+ 4;,;,,4,4,4.43 ye;4:4.4.4:4:e,e;e;94.4,4j4] f e;4.+:4fmToS>3434f4S'efWj ],4;s.4.4.4.4.43gm34:4= 4,4,4] l.M8 4 4)N Cio.,4,4] ' tLes;4.4.43 A 4(+:,a:4,+:43 ;. CMM'4,6MM,6A,MA,CIg ss2.4;o4>2.4M;83:4,+,s] k8,;344,4,4A3;99i EEM 3A.4433:3g3A4 s>3.@@G+.43ä,.424 g4Ms4=:+;4s;43y:4y,4T% 4w4.4;;f;+>;4 4.34 is,C;69,CeMAIM.G1 '9.. 4 4'9'e e 9.4' e.e'e'e - -- -- + \< -\<o- = ---.- ---A+=4a4sW4aausa ] 4=3.;9 ;4>4,g:4.4,4,w,4,] g 9.4, 4,4 4'e e e.e9,4a;4'4 4; +;4;+44:494s%;4w4] 4 4e e'e.4'e'e:e 974,9'4,4,9; i:ee;9:4;4;e;4;ee.A.s4,4,e;4jä! HIG. 35. HRME. ITI TRTISG sTRPs I I\sFRTIYu WOVEN eANE. |
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| 40 SEAT WEAVING erally fit the pliable spline, allow it to dry, and then insert it with the webbing. This assures tight joints. This procedure is not recommended for the ordinary shops for the simple reason that the shrinkage is not appreciable. The frame illustrated in Fig. 35 is purely supplementary to the steps, but as with the Seven Steps in Caning, it should be used in demonstrating the processes to classes. It materially assists in making the processes clear to the students, previous to allowing work on their projects, and assures a general understanding, at least, of proper procedure. The different panels are lettered for convenience and need no elaborate explanation: A is the open frame with grooves cut for the webbing. B is the webbing inserted with ragged edges exposed, ready for cutting. C is the webbing with edges properly trimmed and a spline inserted. D is the completed panel. Inserts of cane webbing may be utilized on pieces of furniture other than seats. These inserts could be used on every article illustrated in Chapters I and II, with similar pleasing effects, and with less labor. However, there is an obvious element in hand caning which naturally and logically gives it precedence over the inserted cane. | SEAT wEAVING erally fit the pliable spline, allow it to dry, and then insert it with the webbing. This assures tight joints, This procedure is not recommended for the ordinary shops for the simple reason that the shrinkage is not appreciable. The frame illustrated in Fig. 35 is purely supplementary to the steps, but as with the Seven Steps in Caning, it should be used in demonstrating the processes to classes. It materially assists in mak- ing the processes clear to the students, previous to allowing work on their projects, and assures a general understanding, at least, of proper procedure. The different panels are lettered for convenience and need no elaborate explanation : d is the open frame with grooves cut for the webbing. B i4 the webbing inserted with ragged edges esposed, ready for cutting. C i4 the webbing with edges properly trimmed and a spline in- serted. D is the completed panel. Inserts of cane webbing may be utilized on pieces of furniture other than seats, These inserts could be used on every article illus- trated in Chapters I and II, with similar pleasing effects, and with less labor, Howwever, there is an obvious element in hnnd caning which naturally and logically gives it precedence over the inserted cane, |
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| CHAPTER V Rush Seating Rush seating, employing either genuine rush or substitutes, may be done to good advantage and with excellent results in manual training shops. No equipment is needed to maintain such work. The addition of a woven seat to a chair or stool constructed in the shops will necessarily employ a new, interesting medium in conjunction with woodwork; and materially increase the pupils’ knowledge of materials and possible combinations. And, as with caning, the resultant interest in the work at hand more than justifies its introduction in manual training shops. Rush seating employs a very simple weave. Different materials employed in weaving naturally require different degrees of skill, and the difficulties encountered are those resulting from handling materials and not because of the complexity of the weave. One may very readily undertake the rushing of ordinary seat frames after a study of printed directions and illustrations. It should be understood at the outset that, in discussing rush seating, materials other than genuine rush are included in the term. Historical.—In the British Museum in London is a seat of curious shape of Egyptian manufacture, which, it is estimated, was made previous to 4000 B.C. A small amount of rush still clings to the seat frame. The relative date of the construction and weaving of the chair seat would indicate that rush seating is by no means a modern art, altho at present rush is extensively employed in furniture. The use of rush in England dates no earlier than 1720. Several types of chairs were made there between that date and 1870. In France rush was used extensively in the seating of furniture of Normandy and Brittany about 1750. Flanders produced rush 41 | CHAPTER V RUsH SEATINa Rush seating, employing either genuine rush or substitutes, may be done to good advantage and with excellent results in manual training shops. No equipment is needed to maintain such work. 1he addition of a woven seat to a chair or stool constructed in the shops will necessarily employ a new, interesting medium in con- junction with woodwork; and materially increase the pupils' knowl- edge of materials and possible combinations. And, as with caning, the resultant interest in the work at hand more than justifies its introduction in manual trainig shops, Rush seating employs a very simple weave. Different materials employed in weaving naturally require different degrees of skill, and the difficulties encountered are those resulting from handling materials and not because of the complexity of the weave.' One may very readily undertake the rushing of ordinary seat frames after a study of printed directions and illustrations. It should be understood at the outset that, in discussing rush seating, materials other than genuine rush are in- cluded in the term. Historical.-In the British MIuseum in London is a seat of curious shape of Egyptian manufacture, which, it is estimated, was made previous to yxx B. C. A small amount of rush still clings to the seat frame. The relative date of the construction and weaving of the chair seat would indicate that rush seating is by no means a modern art, altho at present rush is extensively employed in fur- niture, 1he use of rush in England dates no earlicr than 72O. Several types of chairs were made there between that date and 87O. In France rush was used cxtensively in the seating of furniture of Normandy and Brittany about 75o. Flanders produced rush |
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| RUSH SEATIN 45 green. It is ready for cutting when the tips of the leaves begin to turn brown. This is usually about the middle of August. The leaves are tied in loose bundles for convenience in handling, and dried in the shade, preferably a darkened room. They should remain here until thoroly dry. Before using, soak the rush about ten hours in water. Less time is required if warm water is used. When it is soft and pliable it is ready for weaving. FIG. 39. ISOMETRIC DRAWING OF FRAME FOR RUSH SEATING. Before weaving, the butt ends of the leaves are cut off about a foot from the base. These are too coarse and stiff to weave properly. One leaf may be used or two leaves may be twisted together to make a strand. Three leaves make a coarse strand, two a medium, and one a fine strand. A long, tight twist is necessary to produce an even, smooth strand. The twisting is always done in one direction. One leaf is recommended for beginners in rush seating, for adding to one is much simpler than adding to several. The under side of the seat need not be as smooth and as well woven as the top. In fact, twisting need not be done underneath at all unless the individual worker so desires. Raffia is easy to manipulate because of its pliability, even when dry. Several lengths will need to be twisted together to produce a | RUSH SEATING green. It is ready for cutting when the tips of the leaves begin to turn brown. T'his is usually about the middle of August. The leaves are tied in loose bundles for convenience in handling, and dried in the shade, preferably a darkened room. They should re- main here until thoroly dry, Before using, soak the rush about ten hours in water. Less time is required if warm water is used. WVhen it is soft and pliable it is ready for weaving. FIG. 33. ISOYETRIC DH AWING OF FRA ME FOR RUSII SEATISG. Before weaving, the butt ends of the leaves are cut off about a foot fromx the base. These are too coarse and stiff to weave proper- l. One leaf may be used or two leaves may be twisted together to make a strand. Three leaves make a coarse strand, two a medium, and one a fine strand. A long, tight twist is necessary to produce an even, smooth strand. The twisting is always done in one direc- tion, One leaf is recommended for beginners in rush seating, for adding to one is much simpler than adding to several. 1he under side of the seat need not be as smooth and as well woven as the top. In fact, twisting need not he done underneath at all unless the individual worker so desires, Raffia is easy to manipulate because of its pliability, even when dry, Several lengths will need to be twisted together to produce a |
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| strand of sufficient size. It requires little soaking to make it ready for use. Raffia produces an even, smooth surface of pleasing appearance, and is very desirable in a seat. Fiber may be woven as it comes from the spool. However, it is better to dampen it by plunging a quantity in water and removing FIG. 40. METHOD OF WEAVING THE FIRST STRAND. at once. When it dries after weaving, a slight shrinkage results, thereby making a tauter seat than could be woven with dry strands. Inasmuch as the fiber is paper, it cannot be soaked in water. The Weaving Process.—With the frame ready and rush in proper condition the weaving may be started. Fig. 39 shows an isometric drawing on which corners are lettered and the rails numbered in order. Fig. 40 shows another drawing on which the corners and rails are similarly lettered and numbered, showing graphically the method of weaving the first strand. The arrows indicate the direction of weave. The operation is practically complete once around the frame. Reference may be made to either drawing in the following detailed directions for weaving. Start arbitrarily at any corner—in this case, A. A strand of rush tightly twisted is laid over rail 1 next to the cap with its short end turned down. The beginner may find it advantageous to tack | SEAT WEAVING strand of sufficient size. It requires little soaking to make it ready for use, Raffia produces an even, smooth surface of pleasing ap- pearance, and is very desirable in a seat. Fiber may be woven as it comes from the spool, However, it is better to dampen it by plunging a quantity in water and removing ( A +wG, A4 1 c ! s 7 FIG. 40. ME1HOD OF WEAVISG THE FIRST STRASD. at once, WVhen it dries after weaving, a slight shrinkage results, thereby making a tauter seat than could be woven with dry strands, Inasmuch as the fiber is paper, it cannot be soaked in water, Th4 Weaving Process.-WWWih the frame ready and rush in proper condition the weaving may be started. Fig, 39 shows an isometric drawing on which corners are lettered and the rails numbered in order, Fig, 40 shows another drawing on which the corners and rails are similarly lettered and numbered, showing graphically the method of weaving the first strand. The arrows indicate the direction of weave. The operation is practically com- plete once around the frame. Reference may be made to either drawing in the following detailed directions for weaving. Start arbitrarily at any corner - in this case, df. A strand of rush tightly twisted is laid over rail 1 next to the cap with its short end turned down, T'he beginner may find it advantageous to tack |
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| RUSH SEATING 47 the end in place. Draw the strand over the edge and bottom of rail 1 and up at the inner corner, then over the top and edge of rail 2. This binds the loose end in place if it has not been previously tacked. Pull the strand directly across the frame opening to the top of rail 3 at corner B. Draw it over the edge of the same rail and under, then up at the inner corner and over the top and edge of rail 1. Pull directly across the frame opening to the top of rail 4 at corner C. The operations at corners C and D are identical to FIG. 41. STICK FOR STUFFING INTERIOR OF SEATS. those at A and B, and these repeat themselves indefinitely at each corner, or until the seat is completed. This applies to square seats only. The end of the last strand may be secured with a tack under the proper rail, or twisted around a strand underneath the seat. The strand is twisted as the weaving progresses. This may be done with the palm of the hand and thigh, in much the same manner as a shoemaker waxes his thread. If one leaf of rush is used to make the strand, new leaves are added by tying the two ends in a square knot at a corner, or wherever such joining will not show on the finished seat. When more than one piece of rush is used for a strand the pieces should be of uneven lengths initially. One leaf or piece at a time is then added. The upper or top end of the leaf is used to begin the seating and each leaf added is attached at its top end. Some expert rush seaters do not tie knots in making strands, but add leaves by twisting the end of the preceding leaf about the added one, “like the color on a barber pole,� as one old rush weaver remarked. Adding by twisting only is difficult, and requires great patience and dextrous handling of the material. In fact rush should be used by the more skilful boys only. Others may use the excellent substitute, fiber. | RUSH SEATING the end in place. Draw the strand over the edge and bottom of rail and up at the inner corner, then over the top and edge of rail a. This binds the loose end in place if it has not been previously tacked. Pull the strand directly across the frame opening to the top of rail 3 at corner B. Draw it over the edge of the same rail and under, then np at the inner corner and over the top and edge of rail , Pull directly across the frame opening to the top of rail 4 at corner C, The operations at corners C and D are identical to ; L eeem----------- --CCC@aA---------- --- u-- -- T T gaMe: --as' FIG. 41. sTIcH FoR STUFFINg INTERIOR oE SEATS, -a, those at d and B, and these repeat themselves indefinitely at each corner, or until the seat is completed, This applies to square seats only. The end of the last strand may be secured with a tack under the proper rail, or twisted around a strand underneath the seat. T'he strand is twisted as the weaving progresses, This may be done with the palm of the hand and thigh, in much the same man- ner as a shoemaker waxes his thread. If one leaf of rush is used to make the strand, new leaves are added by tying the two ends in a square knot at a corner, or wherever such joining will not show on the finished seat. WVhen more than one piece of rush is used for a strand the pieces should be of uneven lengths initially. One leaf or piece at a tittme is then added. 1he upper or top end of the leaf is used to begin the seating and each leaf added is attached at its top end. Some expert rush seaters do not tie knots in making strands, but add leaves by twisting the end of the preceding leaf about the added one, ''like the color on a barber pole,'' as one old rush weaver re- marked. Adding by twisting only is difcult, and requires great patience and dextrous handling of the material, In fact rush should be used by the more skilful boys only, Others may use the excellent substitute, fiber. |
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| 48 SEAT WEAVING Care must be exercised to keep the strands from overlapping improperly at the corners. The strands should fit snugly where they go over the rails. To assure this, tap them sharply with a mallet used over a block of soft wood. This may be done at frequent intervals or when several strands have been woven over each rail. FIG. 42. METHOD OF FILLING IN CENTER. Uniform tension on the strand is desirable and this should be tight. As the work progresses the interior between the upper and lower rows of strands is stuffed. This is done with the same material as that used in the weaving. The butt ends of rush are used to stuff the seat of rush; raffia is used to stuff a raffia seat; craft paper to stuff a fiber seat; and so on. The packing should be done in a thoro manner, for it builds up the seat and prevents its breaking down at the inner edges of the rails, and sagging with continued use. A slightly curved hardwood stick about 12 in. long may be used to advantage to do this work. Fig. 41 shows a sketch of such a stick. It is ¾ in. in diameter at one end and tapered to ½ in. by ⅛ in. at | sEAT WEAvING Care must be exercised to keep the strands from overlapping im- properly at the corners, The strands should fit snugly where they go over the rails, To assure this, tap them sharply with a mallet used over a block of soft wood, This may be done at frequent intervals or when several strands have been woven over each rail, FIG. 42, METHOD OF FiLLINu 1N CKNiEI, Uniform tension on the strand is desirable and this should be tight. As the work progresses the interior between the upper and lower rows of strands is stuffed, Thi4 is done with the same material as that used in the weaving. The butt ends of rush are used to stuff the seat of rush; raffia is used to stuff a raffia seat; craft paper to stufi a fiber seat; and so on, The packing should be done in a thoro manner, for it builds up the seat and prevents its breaking down at the inner edges of the rails, and sagging with continued use. A slightly curved hardwood stick about 12 in, long may be used to advantage to do this work, Fig. 41 shows a sketch of such a stick, It is 44 in, in diameter at one end and tapered to 93 in, by in, at |
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| RUSH SEATING 49 the other. Considerable force needs to be exerted in packing, and caution used to avoid breaking strands. Rectangular Seats.—As stated, in weaving a square seat the initial process is repeated at all corners until all openings are filled. In rectangular seats the spaces on the short rails will fill before FIG. 43. METHOD OF FILLING IN CENTER. hose on the long rails. Weaving around corners is then manifestly impossible. Fig. 42 shows a partly woven seat with the short rails filled, and the process of filling up the remaining area under way. The method is this: Go over and under a long rail, across half the frame opening and up thru, then across the remaining distance, and over and under the other long rail. Repeat until the seat is completed. Fig. 43 is a sketch of a partly woven seat, illustrating the method of filling in the center just described. It supplements the photograph and makes the method clearer. It should be noted that the strands in crossing at the center must be compressed one-half of their diameters. They will need to be tapped sharply with a small mallet or hammer to produce proper crowding. Fig. 44 shows a stool seat of fiber woven by an eighth grade boy. Fig. 45 shows the complete stool. The seat is woven | HUSH SEATING the othcr, Considerable force nceds to be eserted in packing, and caution used to avoid breaking strands, Rectangular Seats.-As stated, in weaving a square seat the initial process is repeated at all corners until all openings are filled. In rectangular seats the spaces on the short rails will fill before FIG. 43. 3ETHOI OF FILLISG IS CESTER. those on the long rails, WVeaving around corners is then manifestly impossible. Fig. ;2 shows a partlr woven seat with the short rails filled, and the process of filling up the remaining area under way. Ihe method i, this: Go over and under a long rail, across half the frame opening and up thru, then across the remaining distance, and over and under the other long rail, Rcpeat until the scat is com- pleted. Fig 43 is a sketch of a partly woven seat, illustrating the mcthod of filling in the center just described. It supplements the photograph and makes the method clearer. It should be noted that the strands in crossing at the center must be compressed one-half of their diameters, They will need to be tapped sharply with a small mallet or hammer to produce proper crowding. Fig. 4 shows a stool seat of fiber woven by an eighth grade boy, Fig. 5 shows the complete stool, The seat is woven |
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| 50 SEAT WEAVING over a separate frame and inserted. Fig. 46 is a child’s chair of oak, with a seat of fiber woven over the rails of the chair. Irregular Seats.—The usual or standard shape of chair seat is like the one illustrated in the drawing, Fig. 47. The front rail is FIG. 44. COMPLETED TOP OF FIBER. longer than the back, and the side rails are equal in length. Seats of this shape are rather difficult to weave because special treatment is necessary to fill up portions of certain rails. With reference made to the drawing, the method employed in locating lines for rushing, and for rushing such a seat is this: With the beam of a square laid against rail 4 with its corner against the cap at corner A, scribe a pencil line across rail 2. Similarly, mark the same rail using the square against rail 4 at corner D. Stated in other words, these lines may be obtained by determining the difference in length between the front and back rails, and laying off one- | SEAT WEAVING over a separate frame and inserted. Fig. 46 is a child's chair of oak, with a seat of fiber woven over the rails of the chair, Irregular Seats,-The usual or standard shape of chair seat is like the one illustrated in the drawing, Fig. 47, The front rail is i. FIG. 44. C0MOPLETED TOP OF FuER. longer than the back, and the side rails are equal in length. Seats of this shape are rather difficult to weave because special treatment is necessary to fill up portions of certain rails, WVith reference made to the drawing, the method employed in locating lines for rushing, and for rushing such a seat is thie: Wih the beam of a square laid against rail with its corner against the cap at corner df, scribe a pencil line across rail 2. Similarly, mark the same rail using the square against rail 4 at corner D. Stated in other words, these lines may be obtained by determining the differ- ence in length between the front and back rails, and laying off one- |
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| CHAPTER VI Reed and Splint Weaving Reeds which are used extensively for basket-making and weaving in general are procured from the species of palm described in Chapter I. These reeds should not be confused with the term reed applied to several distinct species of large water loving grasses. Such reeds are usually designated under the name of grasses. There are a thousand species of palm distributed over the tropical regions of the entire world, but only a few are native in the United States, and these are of no distinct commercial value. The rattan or cane palms of India and the Malay Islands grow to an unusual height, and are imported into this country in great quantities. These rattans and the trailing palm of the species Calamus have as main export centers Singapore and Calcutta. These palms are stripped of leaves and bark and split into round and flat strips of different diameters and widths. The outer bark, when stripped into proper sizes, is known as chair cane; the entire palm, with leaves removed, is commercially known as rattan; and the flat reeds are frequently sold as flat rattan and pith cane. Inasmuch as these flat and round strips, split from the palm plant and exported under the name of rattan are called reeds, we shall refer to them under that name in all discussions to follow. There are two qualities of reed on the market sold under the names of China reed and German reed. The former is inferior in quality and the latter is superior, being strong, tough and durable. The Philippine Islands give promise of producing a liberal supply of reed of good quality that is claimed to equal the German product. The problem, however, is one of gathering and marketing the product. The government has made a partial survey of the rattan supply, and this justifies the belief that the Islands will eventually compete with the world market. 55 | CHAPTER VI REED AND SPLNnT WEAvN Reeds which are used estensively for basket-making and weaving in general are procured from the species of palm described in Chap- ter I. These reeds should not be confused with the term reed applied to several distinct species of large water loving grasses. Such reeds are usually designated under the name of grasses. There are a thousand species of palm distributed over the tropical regions of the entire world, but only a few are native in the United States, and these are of no distinct commercial value, The rattan or cane palms of India and the MIalay Islands grow to an unusual height, and are imported into this country in great quantities. These rat- tans and the trailing palm of the species Calamus have as main esport centers Singapore and Calcutta. These palms are stripped of leaves and bark and split into round and flat strips of different diameters and widths. T'he outer bark, when stripped into proper sizes, is known as chair cane ; the entire palm, with leaves removed, is commercially known as rattan ; and the fat reeds are frequently sold as flat rattan and pith cane. Inasmuch as these flat and round strips, split from the palm plant and exported under the name of rattan are called reeds, we shall refer to them under that name in all discussions to follow. There are two qualities of reed on the market sold under the names of China reed and German reed. The formcr is inferior in quality and the latter is superior, being strong, tough and durable. The Philippine Islands give promise of pro- ducing a liberal supply of reed of good quality that i, claimed to7 cqual the German product, The problem, however, is one of gath- ering and marketing the product. The government has made a partial survey of the rattan supply, and this justifies the belief that the Islands will eventually compete with the world market. |
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| 56 SEAT WEAVING Primitive Methods.—Briefly the primitive process of converting the rattan, or raw material, into cane and reeds, or the finished product, is this: The rattan stems are thoroly dried or seasoned, and the nodules are pared off with a peculiar native knife. Then the rattan is sorted into sizes and selection made as to grade. The sorting is based upon external color and diameter of the rattan. The rattan is then immersed in water, and the stem is rubbed vigorously with sand and cocoanut husks to remove dirt and foreign substances. It is then bleached by means of sulphur fumes, either in the stem or after the peel and core have been prepared. The method of preparing the peel and core is this: The peel, or outer covering, is removed with a heavy knife; it is then stripped to selected thicknesses and widths by drawing it by hand thru two knives set at required distances apart. This peel is commercially called cane. The core is then stripped into as many strands as necessary, depending upon the diameter of the cores required. These are rounded by drawing them thru a sheet of tin or iron perforated with holes of different diameters. The rounded cores are called reeds. Considerable rattan is still converted into the finished products by hand processes thru these laborious stages. Machines have been perfected which do practically the entire work. Particularly have the Germans brought this industry to a perfected state. Still in various sections of India, China, and the Philippines hand working of rattan is a thriving industry; an industry seemingly peculiarly adapted to the natives. The Philippine method of preparing the raw material varies somewhat from the Chinese method in that the natives do not bleach the rattan. Reed may be procured in large or small hanks, in coils and in bundles, with the cost determined by weight. Schools generally will find it advantageous to buy it in small hanks, because of ease in handling and for economic reasons. Round reeds are shown three-fourths size in Fig. 49, from No. 0 to and including No. 7, also winding, half-round and flat reeds. Winding reed is thin and | SEAT wEAVING Primitive Methods,-Briefly the primitive process of convert- ing the rattan, or raw material, into cane and reeds, or the finished product, is thie: The rattan stems are thoroly dried or seasoned, and the nodules are pared off wwith a peculiar native knife, T'hen the rattan is sorted into sizes and selection made as to grade, The sort- ing is based upon external color and diameter of the rattan, The rattan is then immersed in water, and the stem is rubhed vigorously with sand and cocoanut husks to remove dirt and foreign suhstances, It is then bleached by means of sulphur fumes, either in the stem or after the peel and core have been prepared. 1The method of preparing the peel and core i thi4: The peel, or outer covering, is removed with a heavy knife ; it is then stripped to selected thicknesses and widths by drawing it by hand thru two knives set at required distances apart, T'his peel is commercially called cane. T'he core is then stripped into as many strands as necessary, depending upon the diameter of the cores required. These are rounded by drawing them thru a sheet of tin or iron perforated with holes of different diameters, The rounded cores are called reeds, Considerable rattan i, still converted into the finished products by hand processes thru these laborious stages, NIachines have been perfected which do practically the entire work. Particularly have the Germans brought this industry to a perfected state, Still in various sections of India, China, and the Philippines hand working of rattan is a thriving industry; an industry seemingly peculiarly adapted to the natives, The Philippine method of preparing the raw material varies somewhat from the Chinese method in that the natives do not bleach the rattan, Reed may be procured in large or small hanks, in coils and in bundles, with the cost determined by weight. Schools generally will find it advantageous to buy it in sinall hanks, because of ease in handling and for economic reasons. Kound reeds are shown three-fourths size in Fig. y0, from No. o to and including No. 7, also winding, half-round and flat reeds, Winding reed is thin and |
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| REED AND SPLINT WEAVING 57 slightly rounded on one surface. Half-round is as its name implies. Flat reed may be obtained in several widths from ¼ in. to ½ in., and if of good quality, one surface will show a decided bevel on the edges and appear much smoother than the other. Thus the right side is determined. There are many more sizes on the market than are indicated in Fig. 49, but those shown should supply adequate, if FIG. 49. SPECIMENS OF REEDS, THREE-FOURTHS OF ACTUAL SIZE. not liberal variety for the ordinary school shop. The cost of reed cannot be given with any degree of accuracy at present. The price is determined by the quantity bought, and by the quality and size. Under normal commercial conditions round reeds will cost from 30 cents to $1 per pound for Nos. 1 to 8, and flat reed about 25 cents per pound. Bleaching.—Reed is procurable either bleached or unbleached. Ordinarily it is better to buy the bleached product. However, if the worker desires to bleach the reed, the method for small quantities is as follows: In a tub two-thirds full of water dissolve ten pounds of chloride of lime. Immerse the reed in this solution, weighting it down to insure covering it all, and let it stand about | IORED AND SPLINT WEAVING slightl rounded on one surface. Half-round is as its name implies, Flat reed may he obtained in several widths from % in, to % in., and if of good quality, one surface will show a decided bevel on the edges and appear much smoother than the other. Thus the right side i, determined. T'here are many more sizes on the market than are indicated in Fig. w0, but those shown should supply adequate, if FIG. 49. sPECI3IENS OF RFED8, THREE-FOC RTHS OF ACT ALL SIzE, not liberal variety for the ordinary school shop. The cost of reed cannot be given with any degree of accuracy at present. The price is determined by the quantity hought, and by the quality and size. Under normal commercial conditions round reeds will cost from 30 cents to $ per pound for Nos. 1 to 8, and flat reed about 25 cents per pound. Bleaching.-Reed is procurable either bleached or unbleached. Ordinarily it is better to huy the bleached product. However, if the worker desires to bleach the reed, the method for small quanti- ties is as follows: In a tuh two-thirds full of water disolve ten pounds of chloride of lime, Immerse the reed in this solution, weighting it down to insure covering it all, and let it stand about |
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| 58 SEAT WEAVING 4 hours. Remove it from the tub and wash thoroly in running water. The best way to do this is to lay the reed on an inclined surface and turn a forceful stream of water upon it. Chloride of lime has a bad effect upon the hands in that it makes them sore and tender, so care must be taken to properly rinse the reed. A little tallow rubbed over the hands will materially offset the tendency to tenderness, and generally keep them in good condition. Staining.—Bleached reed takes stain much more readily and evenly than does the natural or unbleached. It may be stained any color with prepared stains, but ordinarily these leave the reed muddy in appearance due primarily to the difficulty in brushing in or wiping off the stain in the recesses which weaving leaves. Perhaps the best agent for coloring reed, and at least a very desirable one, especially after it has been woven, is naptha. The preparation of the stain and the process of coloring is as follows: Obtain the necessary amount and variety of colors ground in oil; mix the required colors with a little naptha; then to determine the shade of color test with a reed. Reed absorbs a given amount of color, therefore the shade will prove out practically the same when tested with a small quantity of naptha, as when tried out with a greater amount. Add the required amount of naptha to the solution, avoiding thinning too much; otherwise the color produced will be “sickly� in appearance. Five pounds of color to about 3 gallons of naptha will prove about the right ratio. For instance, to obtain a rich nut brown mix 1 pound of chrome yellow and 5 pounds of burnt umber with a small amount of naptha. Stir until the colors are liquid, then gradually add 4 gallons or so of naptha, and stir well. The intensity of the brown may be varied by using more or less chrome yellow. Coiled hanks of reed may be immersed in the solution, immediately withdrawn and hung to drain dry above the receptacle, thus permitting surplus stain to drain back into it. The stain may be used repeatedly, and as it is very volatile it should be kept in a tightly corked red can when not in use. It is also highly inflam- | SEAT WEAVING 4 hours, Remove it from the tub and wash thoroly in running water, The best way to do this is to lay the reed on an inclined surface and turn a forceful stream of water upon it, Chloride of lime has a bad effect upon the hands in that it makes them sore and tender, so care must be taken to properly rinse the reed. A little tallow rubbed over the hands will materially offset the tendency to tenderness, and generally keep them in good condition. Staining.-Bleached reed takes stain much more readily and evenly than does the natural or unbleached. It may be stained any color with prepared stains, but ordinarily these leave the reed muddy in appearance due primarily to the difficulty in brushing in or wiping off the stain in the recesses which weaving leaves. Per- haps the best agent for coloring reed, and at least a very desirable one, especially after it has heen woven, is naptha. The preparation of the stain and the process of coloring is as follows: Obtain the necessary amount and variety of colors ground in oil; mix the re- quired colors with a little naptha ; then to determine the shade of color test with a reed. Reed absorbs a given amount of color, therefore the shade will prove out practically the same when tested with a small quantity of naptha, as when tried out with a greater amount. Add the required amount of naptha to the solution, avoid- ing thinning too much; otherwise the color produced will be ''sickly'' in appearance, Five pounds of color to about 3 gallons of naptha will prove about the right ratio. For instance, to obtain a rich nut brown mix 1 pound of chrome yellow and 5 pounds of burnt umber with a small amount of naptha. Stir until the colors are liquid, then gradually add y gallons or so of naptha, and stir well. The intensity of the brown may be varied by using more or less chrome yellow. Coiled hanks of reed may be immersed in the solution, immedi- ately withdrawn and hung to drain dry above the receptacle, thus permitting surplus stain to drain back into it, The stain may be used repeatedly, and as it is very volatile it should be kept in a tightly corked red can when not in use. It is also highly inflam- |
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| REED AND SPLINT WEAVING 59 mable, and should be used in a room in which there is free circulation of air. If colors have been mixed properly and thinned to the right consistency, the reed will dry rapidly and the color will be sharp and clear, free from muddy effects. A woven article such as a basket or woven top footstool may be dipped, or the color poured over and allowed to drip dry. In some instances it is good policy to wipe surplus stain off lightly. Then, in the case of the footstool or similar project, if the worker so desires he may stain the wood a darker shade than the top with a prepared stain. Reed is very effective without stain; many of the stools shown herewith are left natural. Reed may be shellacked or varnished. Because of its porosity it soils very easily unless some finishing agent is used, and a good grade of elastic varnish is recommended as a finish, especially when the woven article is subject to severe use. Other Materials.—Reed is not the only good medium adapted to weaving, either in correlation with wood or when used alone. On the stools illustrated several other materials have been used, as inner hickory bark and Indian splints and fiber. Binding cane, rope, and even willow may be utilized with success. Paper fiber was discussed in detail in Chapter V and needs no elaboration. Fig. 60 shows a stool partly woven with this serviceable material. Sufficient to say that this fiber adapts itself admirably to almost all work where reed is commonly employed, and in many instances is, commercially, supplanting reed. Inner hickory bark may be obtained of manufacturers of rustic furniture either directly or indirectly. They may be obtained first hand if hickory trees grow in the locality, thus enhancing the educational value of weaving. In the spring or early summer when the sap is up and the bark slips easily, a hickory tree may be cut down, and the rough outer bark shaved with a draw knife from the top of the log the full length of the trunk, leaving a surface from 8 in. to 10 in. wide. With a heavy knife split the inner bark on either side of the shaved strip; then beginning at one end peel | TEED ANID SPLINT wEAVING mable, and should be used in a room in which there is free circula- tion of air. If colors have been mised properly and thinned to the right consistency, the reed will dry rapidly and the color will be sharp and clear, free from muddy effects, A woven article such as a basket or woven top footstool may be dipped, or the color poured over and allowed to drip dry, In some instances it is good policy to wipe surplus stain off lighrly, Then, in the case of the footstool or similar project, if the worker so desires he may stain the wood a darker shade than the top with a prepared stain, Reed is very effective without stain; many of the stools shown herewith are left natural, Reed may be shellacked or varnished. Because of its porosity it soils very easily unless some finishing agent is used, and a good grade of elastic varnish is recom- mended as a finish, especially when the woven article is subject to Severe use. Other Materials,-Reed is not the only good medium adapted to weaving, either in correlation with wood or when used alone. On the stools illustrated several other materials have been used, as inner hickory bark and Indian splints and fiber. Binding cane, rope, and even willow may be utilized with success, Paper fiber was discussed in detail in Chapter V and needs no elaboration. Fig. 6o shows a stool partly woven with this serviceable material. Sufficient to say that this fiber adapts itself admirably to almost all work where reed is commonly employed, and in many instances is, commercially, supplanting reed. Inner hickory bark may he obtained of manufacturers of rustic furniture either directly or indirectly. T'hey may be obtained first hand if hickory trees grow in the locality, thus enhancing the edu- cational value of weaving. In the spring or early summer when ; the sap is up and the bark slips easily, a hickory tree may be cut down, and the rough outer bark shaved with a draw knife from the top of the log the full length of the trunk, leaving a surface from 8 in, to 1o in, wide, With a heavy knife split the inner bark on either side of the shaved strip; then beginning at one end peel |
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| 60 SEAT WEAVING back the inner bark the full length of the log. This process may be repeated until the log is stripped. The thickness of the inner bark depends upon the size of the tree and the species. Manufacturers of hickory furniture claim that the pignut possesses a thicker bark than any other species, the bark running from ¼ in. to ¾ in. in thickness, and they accordingly use this tree in pref- FIG. 50. SKETCH OF HAND STRIPPER AND GAGE. erence to others when available. The rolls of thick inner bark are allowed to dry for several weeks. Then they are placed in water, to remain until pliable. They are then split into strips of proper thickness and width. Factories use a very simple motor driven machine for making the strips, and any manual training shop can devise some scheme for accomplishing this work. These strips cut in indefinite lengths must be made pliant by a thoro soaking just previous to use. In weaving they should be pressed close together with the fingers or with the aid of a hammer, as there is an appreciable shrinkage especially in their width upon drying. Such strips are used mainly by builders of rustic outdoor and porch furniture for the weaving of the backs, arms and seats of chairs, and have at present no general use in school shops. Their use here should be encouraged. If bought of the manufacturer these strips cost 40 cents per pound, dry. They are put up in coils, and are ¾ in. wide and ¹⁄16 in. thick. They may be stripped into narrower widths by means of a hand stripper, soon to be described. Indian splints of ash and hickory may be obtained from dealers | SEAT WEaVING back the inner bark the full length of the log T'his process may be repeated until the log is stripped. The thickness of the inner bark depends upon the size of the tree and the species, MIanu- facturers of hickory furniture claim that the pignut possesses a thicker bark than any other species, the hark running from 4 in, to % in, in thickness, and they accordingly use this tree in pref- .- ,A' +' , s FIG. 50, sKETcII oF HAND STREPR AND GAGE. erence to others when available, The rolls of thick inner bark are allowed to dry for several weeks, Then they are placed in water, to remain until pliable, T'hey are then split into strips of proper thickness and width. Factories use a very simple motor driven machine for making the strips, and any manual training shop can devise some scheme for accomplishing this work, These strips cut in indefinite lengths must be made pliant by a thoro soaking just previous to use. In weaving they should be pressed close together with the fingers or with the aid uf a hammer, as there is an appreci- able shrinkage especially in their width upon drying. Such strips are used mainly by builders of rustic outdoor and porch furniture for the weaving of the backs, arms and seats of chairs, and have at present no general use in school shops. Their use here should be encouraged. If bought of the manufacturer these strips cost 40 cents per pound, dry, They are put up in coils, and are %i in, wide and 1/16 in, thick, They may be stripped into narrower width by means of a hand stripper, soon to be described. Indian splints of ash and hickory may he obtained from dealers |
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| REED AND SPLINT WEACING 61 in the raw products. These strips are cut from the wood of the tree in long shavings in a manner similar to obtaining the inner hickory bark, and stripped into desired widths and thicknesses. One kind of ash splint is made in three weights or thicknesses, fine, medium and heavy, and in strips 1½ in. wide. It is sold in FIG. 51. WORKING DRAWING OF HAND STRIPPER AND GAGE. coils of 200 ft. each at $8.00 for 4,000 ft. The strips are a number of feet in length. Hickory splints are sold in coils of a dozen strands each. These strands are 8 ft. to 10 ft. long by ½ in. wide, and slightly less than ¹⁄16 in. thick. A coil weighs about three-fourths of a pound and costs 5 cents. The ash splints particularly, need to be restripped to widths needed by the worker. For ordinary purposes the hickory strips are right for seating purposes. The stripping is done by means of a combination hand stripper and gage shown in Fig. 50. A working drawing of it is shown in Fig. 51. It is made of maple preferably. The cutters are of a watch spring, pointed and sharpened as indicated. The end piece is removable to permit changes of the cutters. To use, merely hold the splint flat between the right hand and stripper, press the strand down on the cutter and pull it across the cutters with the left hand. Two persons may do the operation more readily and speedily than one. It is a good policy to make several of these devices with cutters at different distances apart so | HEED AND SPLINT wEAVING in the raw products, These strips are cut from the wood of the tree in long shavings in a manner similar to obtaining the inner hickory bark, and stripped into desired widths and thicknesses. One kind of ash splint is made in three weights or thicknesses, fine, rmedium and heavy, and in strips 1% in, wide. It i sold in - 8] 4----- 7 --4------------ --------e] y------$- m+- a --j ---''' - . + 1 FIG. 51. WOBKING DRAWING OF HAND STRIPPER A ND GAGE. coils of 2oo ft, each at $S.oo for j,ooo ft, The strips are a number of feet in length. Hickory splints are sold in coils of a dozen strands each. These strands are 8 ft, to o ft, long by 9\& in, wide, and slightly less than 1/16 in, thick, A coil weighs about three- fourths of a pound and costs 5 cents. T'he ash splints particularly, need to be restripped to widths needed by the worker, For ordinary purposes the hickory strips are right for seating purposes, The stripping is done by means of a combination hand stripper and gage shown in Fig. 5o. A work- ing drawing of it is shown in Fig. 51. It i made of maple pref- erably, The cutters are of a watch spring, pointed and sharpened as indicated. The end piece is removable to permit changes of the, cutters, To use, merely hold the splint flat between the right hand and stripper, press the strand down on the cutter and pull it across the cutters with the left hand. Two persons may do the operation more readily and speedily than one. It is a good policy to make several of these devices with cutters at different distances apart so |
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| 62 SEAT WEAVING splints of various widths may be cut without resort to a change of cutters. Splints need to be soaked in water for a number of minutes before using. They will be found to be somewhat less pliable than inner FIG. 52. ROLLS OF SPLINTS, INNER BARK, AND REED. hickory bark, and different in color, varying from almost white to a light brown. Inner bark is a nut brown in color. The splints stain well, and may be dipped in identically the same manner as reeds. Inner bark needs no stain; in fact is more pleasing if left natural. Ash splints are extensively gathered and prepared by the Indians in certain sections of Canada and the northern states. There they are woven into baskets of intricate design and beautiful colors, usually in combination with other materials, as sweet grass. Splints may be used for almost every purpose for which flat reed is utilized, and in numerous cases is superior and preferable to reed. In Fig. 52 is shown in order, two rolls of hickory splints, a bundle of inner hickory bark strips, and a small hank of flat reed. These are in the original bundles as they come from the dealers. | SEAT WEAVING splints of various widths may be cut without resort to a change of cutters, Splints need to be soaked in water for a number of minutes before using. T'hey will be found to be somewhat less pliable than inner la RWe-- SSes. 2 4. Se-a. - = -- - 'NsL w s .- -; . FIG. 52. ROI.LS OF SPLISTS, ISNER B YRE, ASD REED. hickory bark, and different in color, vatying from almost white to n light brown, Inner bark is a nut brown in color. The splints stain well, and may be dipped in identically the same manner as reeds. Inner bark needs no stain; in fact is more pleasing if left natural, Ash splints are estensively gathered and prepared by the Indians in certain sections of Canada and the northern states, There they are woven into baskets of intricate design and beautiful colors, usually in combination with other materials, as sweet grass, Splints may be used for almost every purpose for which flnt reed is utilized, and in numerous cases is superior and preferable to reed. In Fig. s2 is shown in order, two rolls of hickory splints, a bundle of inner hickory bark strips, and a small hank of flat reed. T'hese are in the original bundles as they come from the dealers. |
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| CHAPTER VII Seats of Reeds and Splints The discussion of the weaving processes to follow is confined, in the main, to stools or seats. Fig. 53 shows several stools different in design both in wood construction and in weaving. In two instances it will be noted that weaving is done over a separate frame, one being inserted between the rails, the other fastened on top, leaving a little projection. Reference is made to several possible weaving designs and the use of various mediums and combinations. The possible combinations of materials are merely suggestive of possible other ones, and the individual worker will find that many designs of varying complexity may be worked out. An excellent method for working out possible designs is that of using black and white paper strips ½ in. in width. The design will show up very clearly because of the contrast of the black and white. Experimenting with the weave on the seat itself is rather tedious and unsatisfactory. The paper strips are an excellent means to an end. The stool top illustrated in Fig. 54 employs a simple over-and-under weave, utilizing flat reed. The worker needs to decide at the outset on the character of weave to be used unless it be of unusual design. In this instance the weaver runs over three and under three strands, and the wrapping done in a series of three. To begin the operation tack an end of flat reed under a short rail at a corner, then bring the strand out and over the rail, across the frame opening to the opposite rail, under this rail, across underneath the frame opening to the bottom of the first rail. This completes the process once around. Repeat three times; then wrap the strand around the two rails, without running it across the top. Thus every fourth strand across the top is omitted. It is not necessary to cut the strand; the wrapping is continuous. Repeat 63 | cHAPTER vII SEATS oF REEDS AND SPLISTs 1he discussion of the weaving processes to follow is confined; in the main, to stools or seats, Fig, 53 shows several stools different in design both in wood construction and in weaving, In two in- stances it will be noted that weaving is done over a separate frame, one heing inserted between the rails, the other fastened on top, leaving a little projection. Reference is made to several possible weaving designs and the use of various mediums and combinations. The possible combinations of materials are merely suggestive of possible other ones, and the individual worker will find that many designs of varying complexity may be worked out. An escellent method for working out possible designs is that of using black and white paper strips G in, in width, The design will show up very clearly because of the contrast of the black and white. Experi- menting with the weave on the seat itself is rather tedious and unsatisfactory. The paper strips are an excellent means to an end. The stool top illustrated in Fig. 54 employs a simple over-and- under weave, utilizing flat reed. The worker needs to decide at the outset on the character of weave to be used unless it be of unusual design. In this instance the weaver runs over three and under three strands, and the wrapping done in a series of three. 1o begin the operation tack an end of flat reed under a short rail at a corner, then bring the strand out and over the rail, across the frame opening to the opposite rail, under this rail, across under-. neath the frame opening to the bottom of the first rail, 1 his com- pletes the process once around. Kepeat three times ; then wrap the strand around the two rails, without running it across the top. Thus every fourth strand across the top is omitted. It is not necessary to cut the strand ; the wrapping is continuous, Kepeat |
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| 64 SEAT WEAVING these series of three strands until opposite short rails are entirely wrapped. When a strand runs out tack the end with the beginning of a new one underneath a rail. Use a one ounce flat head wire FIG. 53. WOVEN TOP STOOLS. tack for this purpose if available, otherwise a one ounce cut tack will do. The weaving proper now begins. Tack a strand underneath a long rail at a corner, then weave over three strands and under three. Repeat in the same manner | SEAT WEAVING these series of three strands until opposite short rails are entirely wrapped, When a strand runs out tack the end with the heginning of a new one underneath a rail, Cse a one ounce flat head wire , 8 m 2>) 'le. ; t F '. --R4: >= ..:^. ' ---- . . 7 : +;' a >;:4 FIG. 53. woVE.N ToP sTOOL8. tack for this purpose if available, otherwise a one ounce cut tack will du. The weaving proper now hegins. TTack a strand underneath a long rail at a corner, then weave or'er three strands and under thrre. Kepeat in the same manner |
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| SEATS OF REEDS AND SPLINTS 65 three times, then weave over the series which were woven under before and repeat alternately until the top is entirely woven. In weaving the top of this stool one strand is woven in the last series of three, and to balance it a single strand is run in on the opposite FIG. 54. WEAVING IN SERIES OF THREE. side. The ends of this strand are not fastened in any particular way; the weaving holds them in place. The spaces next to each short rail may be filled in a like manner if desired. Strands crossing underneath the frame must be woven in some manner to produce a seat of maximum strength. The character of the weave here is not pertinent; in this instance it might take the same form as the top. Fig. 55 shows a stool top woven of inner hickory bark strips employing what is termed a diagonal weave. Begin the wrapping on either the short or long rails. In this instance we will assume | SEATS OF REEDS AND SPLINTS three times, then weave over the series which were woven under before and repeat alternately until the top is entirely woven, In weaving the top of this stool one strand is woven in the last series of three, and to balance it a single strand is run in on the opposite l A,' ] r. l.. . '. e FIG. 54. wEAVISG IS SERIES OF THREE. a side, The ends of this strand are not fastened in any particular way ; the weaving holds them in place. The spaces nest to each short rail may be filled in a like manner if desired. Strands crossing underneath the frame must be woven in some manner to produce a seat of masimum strength. The character of the weave here is not pertinent; in this instance it might take the same form as the top. Fig. 55 shows a stool top woven of inner hickory bark strips employing what is termed a diagonal weave, Begin the wrapping on either the short or long rails, In this instance we will assume |
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| 66 SEAT WEAVING that the short rails have been wrapped; then the weaving will begin over the long rails, and as indicated, at the upper left hand corner. The strands have been numbered to make the description clearer. The “diagonal” is determined at the edges of the upper FIG. 55. STOOL TOP OF INNER HICKORY STRIPS. rail. The method of weaving may be expressed in the following manner: Strand 1—Over 1, under 2, over 2, under 2, and so on. Strand 2—Over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, and so on. Strand 3—Under 1, over 2, under 2, over 2, and so on. Strand 4—Under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, and so on. This completes the series or unit, and this unit repeats itself until the area is woven. For instance, the fifth weaver follows the same course as the first; the sixth weaver follows the same course as the second; the seventh the same as the third; and so on. The diagonal effect will remain the same were the weaver to run over | sEAT wEAVING that the short rails have been wrapped ; then the weaving will begin over the long rails, and as indicated, at the upper left hand corner, T'he strands have been numbered to make the description clearer. The ''diagonal'' is determined at the edges of the upper 4 FIa. 55. sTOOL TOP OF ISNEH HICRORY STRIPS. rail, The method of weaving may be expressed in the following manner: Strand 1--Over 1, under 2, over 2, under 2, and so on. Strand 2-Over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, and so on. Strand 3-Under 1, over 2, under 2, over 2, and so on, Strand -Under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, and so on, a'his completes the series or unit, and this unit repeats itself until the area is woven, For instance, the fifth weaver follows the same course as the first; the sixth weaver follows the same course as the second ; the seventh the same as the third ; and so on. The diagonal effect will remain the same were the weaver to run over |
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| SEATS OF REED AND SPLINTS 67 three strands or more, providing the right start is made at the edges of the frame. In using inner hickory bark care must be exercised to keep the strands close together, for they shrink appreciably in drying. A brad hammer with square face is an excellent tool to use for keeping the strands snugly together. FIG. 56. STOOL TOP OF FLAT AND HALF-ROUND REEDS. A combination of half-round and flat reed is illustrated in Fig. 56. The half-round reed is wrapped about the frame first, and in this case every other strand is wrapped around the opposite rail, crossing underneath the frame only. The diagonal weave is employed, and is identical to the one just described in general effect. However, the weaver runs over three and under three in the body. Note the difference in the weave at the edges of the rails. When using half-round reed it is necessary that every other strand be | sEATS OF REEDS AND SPLINTS H three strands or more, proviling the right start is made at the edges of the frame. In using inner hickory bark care must be exercised to keep the strands close together, for they shrink appreciably in drying. A brad hammer with square face is an excellent tool to use for keeping the strands snugly together. =eg FIG. 56. STOOIL TOP OF FLAT aNTD HALF-ROU N D REEDS. e.'.] -ee^] '] Wml aS1 .] A combination of half-round and flat reed i. illustrated in Fig, s6. The half-round reed is wrapped about the frame first, and in this case every other strand is wrapped around the opposite rail, crossing underneath the frame only, The diagonal weave is em- ployed, and is identical to the one just described in general effect. However, the weaver runs over three and under three in the body, Note the difference in the weave at the edges of the rails. WVhen using half-round reed it is necessary that every other strand be |
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| 68 SEAT WEAVING wrapped completely around the rails, for otherwise it would prove practically impossible to weave the area because of the thickness of the reed. A winding reed as shown in Fig. 49 or binder cane could be run continuously, inasmuch as either is relatively thin. Weaving with two kinds of reed will produce an area of pleasing high relief. FIG. 57. DIAMOND DESIGN IN FLAT REED. Fig. 57 illustrates a stool woven in flat reed. The diagonal weave is used running toward a common center, and it forms a diamond pattern or design. Begin wrapping on the long rails, skipping every other strand on the top as indicated. To weave this pattern it is necessary to locate the center of the short rails and the center strand of those running across the frame. In this instance the strands are even in number, so the pattern does not begin at the actual center, but a little to the right or left as the case may be. Beginning at the center, count by twos, over, under and over, under and so on to determine the number of strands to go over or under | SEAT WEAVING wrapped completely around the rails, for otherwise it would prove practically impossible to weave the area because of the thickness of the reed. A winding reed as shown in Fig. 49 or binder cane could be run continuously, inasmuch as either is relatively thin, WWeaving with two kinds of reed will produce an area of pleasing high relief. = ' FIG. 57. DAMOND DESIGN IN FLAT REED. Fig. 57 illustrates a stool woven in flat reed. The diagonal weave is used running toward a common center, and it forms a diamond pattern or design, Begin wrapping on the long rails, skipping every other strand on the top as indicated. To weave this pattern it is necessary to locate the center of the short rails and the center strand of those running across the frame. In this instance the strands are even in number, so the pattern does not begin at the actual center, but a little to the right or left as the case may be. Beginning at the center, count by twos, oer, under and oer, under and so on to determine the number of strands to go over or under |
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| SEATS OF REED AND SPLINTS 69 at the edge of the frame. The first strand runs over one at the center, and over two and under two on either side. The second strand runs under three at the center, and over two, under two on either side; the worker must again count to the edge of the frame FIG. 58. DIAMOND WEAVE IN FLAT AND HALF-ROUND REEDS. to determine the beginning weave, until the unit of four strands has been woven. Then the unit repeats itself at the center and at the edges of the frame. Beginning at the right side of the illustration the weaving is as follows: Strand 1—Over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, then over 1, and repeat across the other half of the frame. Strand 2—Under 1, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, then under 3, and repeat across the frame. | SEATS OF REEDS ANTD SPLLINTS at the edge of the frame, The first strand runs over one at the center, and over two and under two on either side, The second strand runs under three at the center, and over two, under two on either side ; the worker must again count to the edge of the frame FIG. 58. DAMoSD WEAvE IN FLAT AND HALE-ROUND HEEDS. to determine the beginning weave, until the unit of four strands has been woven, Then the unit repeats itself at the center and at the edger of the frame, Beginning at the right side of the illustration the weaving is as follows: Strand 1--Over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 27 then over 1, and repeat across the other half of the frame. Strand 2--Under 1, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, then under 3, and repeat across the frame. |
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| 70 SEAT WEAVING Strand 3—Under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, then under 1, and repeat across the frame. Strand 4—Over 1, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, then over 3, and repeat across the frame. FIG. 59. WOVEN DESIGN IN FLAT REED. These four strands comprise the unit, and it is repeated until the frame is entirely woven. Complete half of the frame first, then weave the other half, which is just the reverse of the first half. In starting the weave for the second half, strand 1 is omitted, for it is the center of the frame. After the worker has worked out the unit according to the method described, he will find it good practice to write it out graphically as above to use in weaving the seat. The unit above applies to the particular stool, and will not hold good on seats utilizing more strands, or fewer. Errors are easily made in weaving this pattern for the reason that strands need watching at two places. The seat of the stool at the top of the | SEAT WEAVING Strand 3-Under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, then under 1, and repeat across the frame. Strand 1-Over 1, under 2, over 2, under 2, over 2, under 2, then over 3, and repeat across the frame, Fa. 59. wovEN DESIGN IN FLAT HEED. e These four strands comprise the unit, and it is repeated until the frame is entirely woven, Complete half of the frame first, then weave the other half, which is just the reverse of the first half, In starting the weave for the second half, strand 1 is omitted, for it i4 the center of the frame, After the worker has worked out the unit according to the method described, he will find it good practice to write it out graphically as above to use in weaving the seat, The unit above applies to the particular stool, and will not hold good on seats utilizing more strands, or fewer, Errors are easily made in weaving this pattern for the reason that strands need watching at two places, The seat of the stool at the top of the |
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| % | 25 | 0 | 39 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| & | 26 | 5 | 36 | 1 | 0 | 740.00 |
| ' | 27 | 213 | 1208 | 2 | 9 | 572.30 |
| ( | 28 | 119 | 13 | 0 | 2 | 12.61 |
| ) | 29 | 119 | 55 | 1 | 1 | 47.90 |
| * | 2a | 9 | 41 | 5 | 0 | 511.11 |
| + | 2b | 0 | 81 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| , | 2c | 6871 | 325 | 20 | 35 | 5.53 |
| - | 2d | 437 | 1348 | 17 | 12 | 315.10 |
| . | 2e | 5094 | 458 | 1661 | 153 | 44.60 |
| / | 2f | 0 | 23 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| 0 | 30 | 396 | 16 | 259 | 60 | 84.60 |
| 1 | 31 | 1393 | 89 | 191 | 225 | 36.25 |
| 2 | 32 | 611 | 47 | 174 | 58 | 45.66 |
| 3 | 33 | 400 | 67 | 77 | 60 | 51.00 |
| 4 | 34 | 364 | 455 | 49 | 45 | 150.82 |
| 5 | 35 | 354 | 45 | 108 | 41 | 54.80 |
| 6 | 36 | 470 | 18 | 20 | 30 | 14.47 |
| 7 | 37 | 516 | 35 | 37 | 35 | 20.74 |
| 8 | 38 | 620 | 43 | 211 | 31 | 45.97 |
| 9 | 39 | 278 | 68 | 134 | 34 | 84.89 |
| : | 3a | 189 | 129 | 4 | 4 | 72.49 |
| ; | 3b | 770 | 145 | 15 | 8 | 21.82 |
| < | 3c | 0 | 17 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| = | 3d | 0 | 179 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| > | 3e | 0 | 25 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| ? | 3f | 93 | 11 | 41 | 3 | 59.14 |
| @ | 40 | 0 | 13 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| A | 41 | 1567 | 170 | 55 | 22 | 15.76 |
| B | 42 | 593 | 13 | 54 | 11 | 13.15 |
| C | 43 | 1048 | 29 | 76 | 10 | 10.97 |
| D | 44 | 535 | 25 | 31 | 9 | 12.15 |
| E | 45 | 1340 | 101 | 70 | 20 | 14.25 |
| F | 46 | 570 | 21 | 50 | 14 | 14.91 |
| G | 47 | 472 | 40 | 29 | 12 | 17.16 |
| H | 48 | 1309 | 28 | 276 | 43 | 26.51 |
| I | 49 | 1788 | 263 | 140 | 48 | 25.22 |
| J | 4a | 556 | 32 | 157 | 27 | 38.85 |
| K | 4b | 230 | 7 | 35 | 7 | 21.30 |
| L | 4c | 589 | 62 | 47 | 16 | 21.22 |
| M | 4d | 734 | 39 | 93 | 12 | 19.62 |
| N | 4e | 876 | 73 | 55 | 20 | 16.89 |
| O | 4f | 731 | 22 | 53 | 12 | 11.90 |
| P | 50 | 570 | 16 | 69 | 10 | 16.67 |
| Q | 51 | 34 | 2 | 7 | 0 | 26.47 |
| R | 52 | 803 | 42 | 127 | 21 | 23.66 |
| S | 53 | 1246 | 111 | 50 | 15 | 14.13 |
| T | 54 | 2041 | 108 | 146 | 45 | 14.65 |
| U | 55 | 180 | 10 | 21 | 5 | 20.00 |
| V | 56 | 212 | 36 | 33 | 7 | 35.85 |
| W | 57 | 509 | 30 | 59 | 7 | 18.86 |
| X | 58 | 11 | 0 | 6 | 1 | 63.64 |
| Y | 59 | 272 | 47 | 13 | 9 | 25.37 |
| Z | 5a | 36 | 4 | 5 | 1 | 27.78 |
| [ | 5b | 2 | 15 | 1 | 0 | 800.00 |
| \ | 5c | 0 | 41 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| ] | 5d | 2 | 97 | 0 | 1 | 4900.00 |
| ^ | 5e | 0 | 12 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| a | 61 | 30252 | 205 | 1120 | 273 | 5.28 |
| b | 62 | 6042 | 51 | 201 | 42 | 4.87 |
| c | 63 | 8960 | 44 | 278 | 56 | 4.22 |
| d | 64 | 15922 | 63 | 159 | 118 | 2.14 |
| e | 65 | 46984 | 565 | 753 | 288 | 3.42 |
| f | 66 | 8594 | 61 | 93 | 84 | 2.77 |
| g | 67 | 6361 | 61 | 53 | 51 | 2.59 |
| h | 68 | 21928 | 236 | 397 | 169 | 3.66 |
| i | 69 | 24376 | 200 | 213 | 242 | 2.69 |
| j | 6a | 271 | 14 | 12 | 4 | 11.07 |
| k | 6b | 2221 | 15 | 131 | 21 | 7.52 |
| l | 6c | 14488 | 122 | 180 | 128 | 2.97 |
| m | 6d | 8140 | 135 | 109 | 55 | 3.67 |
| n | 6e | 26871 | 122 | 380 | 202 | 2.62 |
| o | 6f | 27595 | 75 | 247 | 174 | 1.80 |
| p | 70 | 6250 | 28 | 59 | 44 | 2.10 |
| q | 71 | 347 | 3 | 6 | 2 | 3.17 |
| r | 72 | 24177 | 137 | 219 | 213 | 2.35 |
| s | 73 | 23135 | 234 | 195 | 191 | 2.68 |
| t | 74 | 32647 | 129 | 231 | 237 | 1.83 |
| u | 75 | 9616 | 125 | 175 | 99 | 4.15 |
| v | 76 | 3353 | 15 | 72 | 25 | 3.34 |
| w | 77 | 7146 | 104 | 67 | 45 | 3.02 |
| x | 78 | 623 | 11 | 159 | 16 | 29.86 |
| y | 79 | 5969 | 117 | 49 | 40 | 3.45 |
| z | 7a | 278 | 26 | 4 | 7 | 13.31 |
| { | 7b | 0 | 2 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| } | 7d | 0 | 3 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| £ | a3 | 12 | 0 | 8 | 4 | 100.00 |
| ¦ | a6 | 4 | 0 | 1 | 3 | 100.00 |
| © | a9 | 1 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 100.00 |
| « | ab | 2 | 0 | 0 | 2 | 100.00 |
| ³ | b3 | 6 | 0 | 6 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ¹ | b9 | 3 | 0 | 3 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ¼ | bc | 10 | 0 | 6 | 4 | 100.00 |
| ½ | bd | 11 | 0 | 9 | 2 | 100.00 |
| ¾ | be | 4 | 0 | 4 | 0 | 100.00 |
| Â | c2 | 11 | 0 | 9 | 2 | 100.00 |
| Ã | c3 | 7 | 0 | 7 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ß | df | 0 | 12 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| à | e0 | 6 | 0 | 6 | 0 | 100.00 |
| â | e2 | 116 | 0 | 113 | 3 | 100.00 |
| ä | e4 | 0 | 5 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| æ | e6 | 6 | 0 | 6 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ç | e7 | 1 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 100.00 |
| è | e8 | 8 | 0 | 8 | 0 | 100.00 |
| é | e9 | 46 | 0 | 44 | 2 | 100.00 |
| ê | ea | 4 | 0 | 4 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ë | eb | 1 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ô | f4 | 3 | 0 | 3 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ö | f6 | 1 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ü | fc | 0 | 1 | 0 | 0 | Infinity |
| œ | 153 | 14 | 0 | 0 | 14 | 100.00 |
| ˜ | 2dc | 1 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 100.00 |
| – | 2013 | 4 | 0 | 3 | 1 | 100.00 |
| — | 2014 | 316 | 0 | 301 | 15 | 100.00 |
| ‘ | 2018 | 10 | 0 | 10 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ’ | 2019 | 187 | 0 | 178 | 9 | 100.00 |
| “ | 201c | 351 | 0 | 334 | 17 | 100.00 |
| ” | 201d | 376 | 0 | 330 | 46 | 100.00 |
| … | 2026 | 2 | 0 | 0 | 2 | 100.00 |
| › | 203a | 2 | 0 | 0 | 2 | 100.00 |
| ⁄ | 2044 | 9 | 0 | 7 | 2 | 100.00 |
| € | 20ac | 114 | 0 | 42 | 72 | 100.00 |
| ™ | 2122 | 40 | 0 | 0 | 40 | 100.00 |
| ⅛ | 215b | 2 | 0 | 2 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ⅜ | 215c | 2 | 0 | 2 | 0 | 100.00 |
| ⅝ | 215d | 1 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 100.00 |
| � | fffd | 16 | 0 | 0 | 16 | 100.00 |